Dylan lay asleep on the bed when his brow suddenly furrowed, his breathing turning uneven. His body tensed as if caught in a nightmare.
In his dream, he was standing inside a hospital room.
The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air. Machines surrounded the bed where his mother lay, pale and motionless, tubes connected to her fragile body. The steady beeping of the heart monitor echoed loudly in his ears, each sound making his chest feel tighter.
"Mom..." Dylan whispered, stepping closer.
Her eyes were half-open, weak, as if she were struggling to stay awake. Panic clawed at him.
"Mom, wake up," he begged, his voice shaking. "Don't leave me. Please... don't leave me."
The beeping grew faster. The room felt like it was closing in on him.
"Mom—!"
Dylan jolted awake.
He sat up abruptly, gasping for air. His chest rose and fell rapidly as sweat drenched his shirt. Tears had gathered in his eyes, some already slipping down his cheeks before he even realized it.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked around, grounding himself. Slowly, he reached for the clock beside the bed.
Only 10 minutes had passed.
His hands trembled slightly as he picked up his phone, instinctively checking for a message from Flynn—anything to distract him, to pull him away from the lingering fear in his chest.
There was nothing.
The emptiness only made the heaviness worse.
Dylan stood up and left his room, deciding to wait in his car instead. Staying inside the house felt unbearable, the walls pressing in on him with memories he didn't want to face.
As he hurried toward the door, Brent noticed him.
Brent immediately caught the look on Dylan's face—the sadness he wasn't even trying to hide.
"Uncle, I need to go now," Brent said, turning to Xavier.
"Alright, Brent. Thank you for visiting—and for the gifts," Xavier replied.
Brent gave a small bow, then followed Dylan outside without another word.
After leaving, Brent went straight to Dylan's car. As soon as he got in, loud music was playing inside while Dylan simply stared into the distance. Brent lowered the volume and took a deep breath before speaking.
"Are you okay?" Brent asked.
"I'm fine," Dylan replied.
"Sorry for bringing you here."
"It's not your fault. I'll take you to your hotel," Dylan said.
"No. Take me to your apartment first."
Dylan just nodded and drove toward his apartment.
When they arrived, Dylan stayed in the living room. The TV was on, but his eyes were fixed on his phone, which was resting on the couch beside him. He absentmindedly bit his thumb, as if waiting for something.
Brent stood by the large glass wall, staring outside while holding his glass of wine. He noticed how restless Dylan was, his attention focused entirely on his phone. Brent knew Dylan wasn't usually interested in his phone and rarely checked it, but from what he was seeing now, Dylan clearly couldn't wait.
"Looks like your baby brother still isn't here," Brent said sarcastically.
"Maybe later," Dylan replied simply, still staring at his phone. Did he forget to message me to get picked up? he thought.
"You've been staring at your phone for a while. Are you waiting for a message?" Brent asked, as if trying to catch him.
"No," Dylan answered simply, looking away from his phone and turning his gaze to the TV.
Brent smirked at Dylan's behavior. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a message to Dylan's number.
When Dylan's phone notification sounded, he practically jumped from where he was sitting to check who had sent the message.
As soon as he opened it, he read the message—"Seriously?" When Dylan checked who it was from, he saw that the sender was Brent.
"I thought you said you weren't waiting for any messages," Brent said.
Dylan didn't reply. He placed the phone back on the couch and turned his attention to the TV again.
A moment later, Brent sent another blank message to Dylan's number, but Dylan didn't seem to notice it.
"Aren't you going to check who messaged you?" Brent asked.
"Why would I? It's obviously from you," Dylan replied.
"Are you sure it's from me?" Brent said with a smirk as he took a sip of his wine. "What if it's your baby brother?"
Dylan thought about what Brent said and quickly grabbed his phone. Irritation was clear on his face when he once again saw Brent's name as the sender.
"Are you messing with me?" Dylan said irritably.
"Why don't you just call Flynn instead of suffering there while waiting?" Brent said.
"I said I'm not waiting for—" Dylan started, but before he could finish, his phone suddenly rang. Because of Brent's teasing, Dylan assumed it was him again. "Can you stop it already?" Dylan said.
Brent simply raised his phone and waved it, showing that he wasn't doing anything.
When Dylan checked who was calling, he immediately answered after seeing Lucas's number.
"Are you still planning to pick me up?" Flynn said on the other line, then immediately hung up.
Dylan quickly ran to his room to grab his jacket and car keys. As he stepped out of the unit, he suddenly went back inside to get the large paper bag he had forgotten on the living room table. He grabbed it and hurried to the parking lot to go get Flynn.
Brent was left alone in Dylan's unit. He sat down on the couch, turned off the TV, and let out a sigh. Dylan really had changed—from someone selfish to someone who now knew how to care for others. Still, Brent couldn't understand why Dylan treated Flynn so differently, especially when it came to choosing the cellphone he had bought for Flynn at the mall when they went shopping.