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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 7 years ago

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Always Follow Your Dreams

Summary: People always say to follow your dream. That’s what I did. But I never thought I would meet him. Actually I still can’t believe it.

Pairing: Chloe x Dylan

Word count: 7099

A/N: (So I decided to repost both fic I deleted recently and now I won’t delete them and if I do someone knock me out with a baseball bat please and thanks) I’m a little proud of this one. I wrote it for @writing-obrien contest a while ago and ended up rereading it and well I like it. I think it’s cute. And usually I don’t like what I write soooo. Here you go! My first and only Dylan Obrien fic! (I think this is the biggest fic I ever wrote)

I wanted to be an author. I always liked to write, whether it was fanfictions or imagines on Tumblr, my passion had always been writing. I was a bit popular on my blog, but I felt that it wasn’t enough. I wanted to express myself, extend my thoughts on paper sheets, translated into all languages and read all over the world. It was my dream, and I promised myself that one day it would become reality.

Then one fine day, I decided. I started writing my first book, my first real novel, and I was really excited, until I found myself with the syndrome of all writers, the blank page. Nothing. The void. My fingers didn’t move, nothing was written on my sheet. Total lack of inspiration.

But I didn’t want to give up. I spent many days thinking of a story, a general idea, characters. I even asked my subscribers for advice on my blog, which gave me some good summaries, but nothing that came to me especially. I spent many days searching, thinking, doing research, asking for help, but still nothing. I was desperate but not enough to give up my dream. So, a good month after I decided to write a book, I packed my bags, left everything behind me and left for another city. I was stressed out, of course, it was new to me, to leave my house, my family, my comfort, but I will never be able to discover the world while staying in my room to write for my blog. I could never become the writer I dreamed of being. So I said to myself, "Well, Chloe, it's time to move your ass. It's now or never. "

And it was now.

I had been in the city for several days already. The first thing I did was searching for a job to get money for a small but perfect room for one person. Then I decided to visit the city. It was beautiful, different, and above all, I felt like I was in a new world. I felt self-reliant, adventurous, and especially strong to have made this whole journey alone. On the evening of the fifth day, I decided to reward myself a little for all the efforts I had made. Okay, since I arrived I hadn’t touched my computer and the blank page that was taunting me, but I had still made it all the way to here! I deserved a good drink to celebrate. So, armed with my laptop, I went to the closest bar. As soon as I set a foot inside, a musty smell rose to my nostrils and made me grimace. The place was quite dark and mostly, almost empty. There were drunks here and there who slowly drank their glasses, a few ambitious young men who made a contest of the one who could drink the most shots, and other persons without importance. So I went to sit down at a quiet table, avoiding crossing anyone eyes, trying to cheer me up a little. It wasn’t that bad... Okay, it wasn’t the best bar in town, but it was close to my home and the menu shouldn’t be too expensive.

I had been thinking for a good 20 minutes, always in front of a blank page when I decided it was time to have a drink, to clarify the ideas with my favorite drink. I got up after putting my computer in my bag, the latter on my shoulder and walked to the counter to order.

While I waiting for the barman to prepare my lemonade, my gaze was stopped by something on my right. Actually, it was more like someone at the counter, a pyramid of shooter in front of him. He must have had a very bad day to drink that much.

The detail didn’t immediately jump into my eyes, perhaps because I didn’t want to believe it. Maybe I wasn’t really accustomed to seeing him with a beard, or maybe I thought my writer's brain was playing tricks on me. But when he raised his head towards the barman to ask for another service, my heart began to beat in my chest. My eyes widened and I was sure that a stream of drool was slowly sinking down my chin.

I recognized his voice without any problem. I noticed his moles hidden in his several days beard. It was him, and I couldn’t take off my eyes.

Dylan O'brien.

My idol, my life, the actor that I considered the most beautiful, the most talented, the most precious, the most...

All that.

And he was a few meters away from me, right there, accessible. My head was completely drained.

Oh. My. God.

I didn’t know what to think, what to do, what to say. He was there, I had dreamed, hoped, prayed to meet him one day and he was there. But my body couldn’t move, my feet were cemented to the ground and my limbs as hard as concrete.

"Mademoiselle, your lemonade," a voice made me turned like a picket to the barman, hoping that Dylan hadn’t noticed me. He would’ve found me weird and would never have agreed to take a picture with me, or he would have been forced to do so and I couldn’t bear that. For me, it wasn’t just an actor. He was a human being, with emotions, a private life, feelings. I had too much respect for him to dare disturb him this way.

"Monsieur O'brien ..." I heard the bartender. "You had enough ..."

A slap on the counter made my glass shake and made me jump at the same time.

"I'm the customer, and I need another drink," Dylan mumbled in a hoarse, broken voice that bent my head, my heart broken. He was obviously not going well. How he was dressing, his hair, his beard ... he obviously stopped taking care of himself. He looked sad, lost, and above all, incredibly alone. My hand around my glass tightened and I swallowed a moment before letting go a quick glance at him. My idol. My first source of inspiration in my fanfictions. And if I ...

No, no, no, Chloe. He is not feeling well. Don’t forget, before being an actor, he’s a human being. He needs space, not selfishness from a fan.

But at the same time he looked so lonely and sad, some company wouldn’t hurt...

I don’t think the company of a fan as devoted as you asking him all the questions you've always dreamed of knowing is the thing he needs right now, Chloe.

I bit my lip again, looking at my glass. Then I made my decision.

I drank my whole lemonade to give me courage, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and rose from my seat. Then, without looking at him, I pulled the chair alongside his, still at the counter, and sat down without saying anything. He didn’t move, didn’t raise his head and I did nothing either.

So, now that you're sitting right beside him, that your shoulder almost touches his, that you can smell someone who hasn’t washed since who knows when, what are you going to do?

He really didn’t look okay, not at all. He looked a bit like when he had his accident on the set of The Death Cure. He had let himself go, but I had never seen him like that. So sad and alone. It made my heart crack, I wanted to help him. Show him he wasn’t alone. But how can I talk to the actor I admired the most? What to say?

"Are you okay? "

My voice came out low, hoarse, uncertain. I raised my head slowly toward him, swallowing hard, waiting for the moment when he was going to ask me to kindly go away and that he preferred to be alone, or that he didn’t want to talk to a fan.

He didn’t answer me, nor did he look at me. Nothing. No interaction, no reaction. The waiter arrived with Dylan's command and placed it in front of him. He watched for a moment the glass, lost in his contemplation and sniffed hard before putting his fingers on the shooter. He hesitated to drink it, as if it were his life that was in the glass and he thought about whether he wanted it to end or not. I don’t know why I did that, I don’t know where I found the guts, but I put my hand on his glass, took it from his hands and quickly drank the shooter while grimacing and feeling the liquid burning me throat. Wow, it was strong. And he drank that much of them?

I can’t believe I'm doing this...

Once the shooter rested on the table, I finally crossed his eyes. He looked at me. His eyes burned my skin, his pupils directly in mine, I couldn’t move.

You had managed to attract his attention, congratulations Chloe! And now is the time when he’s going to be angry that you drank his drink!

But nothing happened. He continued to look at me with a feverish look, a confused and totally drunk look. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable. What was he doing? Why was he staring at me like that? I scratched my neck, uncomfortable.

Then his eyes softened, I don’t know why. But his tense features relaxed, as if a weight on his shoulders had fallen at his feet. Dylan stood up, pulled a pile of greenback from his pocket and dropped them on the counter before staggering back toward the exit without a glance at me.

I remained frozen, eyes wide open, not understanding what had just happened.

"You probably saved him," said a voice in front of me, the barman. I looked up at him, not understanding immediately.

"He comes every evening for a few days, he drinks until he’s no longer able to stand. He drinks to forget his demons. "

I bowed my head, saddened to hear that.

"I always try to make him hear reason, not to exceed his limit, but he never listens to me. This is the first time since he's there that I see him leave on his two feet. "

"But I didn’t do anything," I said playing nervously with my fingers under the counter.

"You've been there, that's all he needs," he ends up returning to his post.

I was there, I helped him? I looked up, now motivated. I knew what I was going to do tomorrow night, as well as every night after.

And I had even found inspiration for my novel.

The day passed relatively slowly. It was my working day, and I had only one desire, to write my novel. Now that I had a solid and interesting guideline, my fingers were dying to type frantically on the keyboard of my laptop that wisely waited to be used in my bag. I was also looking forward and was stressing about the evening ahead, going back to the bar, seeing him again. See Dylan again. Help him if I could. I wanted to help him, really, and that by keeping my fan status secret. I knew that if he learned it, he wouldn’t see me the same way. I'll look like a stalker, taking advantage of his situation to get closer to him, and that wasn’t what I wanted to do. I really wanted to help him get better. From the bottom of my heart.

Eventually, my work day ended and I almost ran out of the shop without saying good-bye to go home, put on more decent clothes and wait for the same time as the day before. I must look like a normal customer, not someone who wants to arrive at the same time as him; I’ll only look strange, like a stalker.

As soon as I set a foot inside, I saw him. I didn’t need to search, he was sitting in the same place as the night before, and probably sitting at that place every night, order the same thing, and leave at the same time with the help of the bartender. But not yesterday, and not today either.

Come on, Chloe. You can do it. You can do it!

I walked a step towards Dylan and took a seat beside him without looking at him, the stress twisted my stomach so I was nervous. The barman recognized me and I ordered the same drink as yesterday and he nodded before going to prepare it. I still didn’t dare look at him, I didn’t even dare move in the fear that my arm touches his and he calls me a stalker or a weirdo. I knew it wasn’t Dylan's kind of being violent, especially with his fans, but we can’t know what the demon of alcohol can do to you.

I spent many minutes staring at my glass while next to me, Dylan continued to shoot one after the other as if it were juice. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down as if alcohol could heal his internal wounds. With a broken heart to see him again like that, I finally decided to look up at him and ask him the same question.

"Are you okay?"

He didn’t look at me and didn’t answer me either, reaching out for another shot, but I took it from his hands and made it again the same as the day before. The liquid burned my throat again and I closed my eyes, grinning. When I opened them again, Dylan was staring at me with the same look he had thrown me the night before. And just as yesterday, his eyes softened, he put money on the counter and left and it was only when he went out that I allowed myself to breathe. I squeezed my glass and pulled out my computer to start writing, still feeling my heart beat in my throat so it was loud.

The following evenings passed more or less the same way, only I took confidence and took his shooter from him earlier and earlier each day so he left drinking less and less every night. He still didn’t speak to me, but I felt that I was slowly beginning to develop a strange relationship of trust with him, and saw him less like an actor, an idol. I saw him from a much more human perspective, with needs and flaws like everyone else. And it wasn’t something wrong, because everyone has its faults, however when you are famous you have to hide them. And having to look perfect in front of everyone always ends up getting exhausting.

Eventually after many nights, something new happened. I arrived at the same hour at the bar. Sit in the same seat beside him, but when I went to command my lemonade, it slipped to me. I looked up to see where it came from and noticed that it was my right neighbor, Dylan O'Brien, who had given it to me. Our eyes met again and I mumbled a little thank you barely audible before plunging my eyes on the counter and sipping the liquid, my face probably all red and my heart beating like crazy in my chest.

"You don’t ask if I’m okay today? "

I nearly choked in my drink. He had just spoken? He had spoken to me?

Oh boy Chloe calm down, it's nothing, you can handle a small question.

I swallowed before raising my head again to Dylan, who had abandoned his shooters to look at me. Tonight he had only took five if I counted the little glasses that had been thrown down before him, meaning that they had been consumed. It was a record since I first came to the bar.

"Erm..." I started not knowing what to say. He was still looking at me and his brown honey eyes made me melted and were disconcerted me. "How are you?” I asked, in no way imaginative. I had lost the total control of my means. After more than a week we finally had a conversation with words.

"Not great," he replied before glancing back at the shoots. He sighed before putting his hands in his several days beard and then continued. "I ... discovered something, something that I shouldn’t know and ... I don’t know what to do," he finished before plunging his sad look back into mine as if I had the answer.

"Is this something serious?" I tried in a soft voice.

"Well ... not really but at the same time ..."

"It's painful for you ..." I finished in his place and his eyes lit up, a sign that I was right. I had a doubt about the source of his pain now. But I had to be certain before checking my assumptions.

"It's ... my girlfriend she ... I discovered she's cheating on me," he ended up placing his head in his hands.

I never really liked Britt. To be honest I thought she was everything but a good actress, that she wasn’t treating Dylan properly and that she even lacked respect for him. So, to hear that coming out of his mouth, I had to restrain myself very strongly not to insult Britt Robinson, there, in front of all the customers.

"But that's not all," he went on and I couldn’t hold back the "bitch" that slipped out of my mouth, which shook his shoulders slightly. Had he just laughed? If we can call that a laugh...

"She ... she throw me out saying that ... I was the worst, and I was the one who cheated on her ... but that's not true!” He added before looking at me.

"I believe you," was all I said with a sincere look. I had no difficulty in believing that Britt could do that. I had never loved her and now I hated her even more.

"Do you have a place to stay?" I asked by putting my hand on his shoulder gently.

"Yes I ... I took a room not far from here ..." He mumbled as he wiped his nose.

New moment of silence when nobody spoke. Then Dylan pointed my bag where my computer was.

"Are you a writer?" "

His question made me blush again. He was interested in me?

"I ... I try ..." I said, laughing nervously and resting my hands in front of me.

"Can I read?"

I stiffened as I watched the void.

"It's not very interesting ..." I started, not wanting to bore him with my stuff.

But he didn’t wait for my agreement and took my computer from my bag, in the same way that I had taken his last shooter every night. However, my computer contained many images that I absolutely did not want Dylan to see. Pictures of him, which would show my status as a finished fan. Including my wallpaper.

"Wait!” I told him, taking my computer from his hands. "I have to enter my password," I answered, smiling nervously.

"Oh. That's true," he said, answering my smile. The first smile he had been doing for days. And his smile made me melt even more.

"At last you smile," I mumbled, smiling sincerely in my turn. I had decided to make him read the first pages of my novel when I noticed that my computer was no longer opening.

"Battery’s dead," I said closing the screen, desperate as I turned to Dylan, who was staring at me with shining eyes. "Uhm ... what?" Was all that came out of my mouth.

"Nothing you ... you're ..." He started looking for his words. "You’re a light in my darkness," he continued, scratching his head. "I ... if you hadn’t come to see me the first time ... I ..." He didn’t finish his sentence, stood up and put down money on the counter, leaving the bar with a quick step, leaving me with my computer half open in the hands. His words had touched me even though I didn’t quite understand what he meant. And I didn’t understand why he had left like that, because deep inside me, I was a bit hurt he went away when I had finally succeeded in piercing his shell to speak with him. To understand and help him overcome his pain.

On the following evenings he didn’t come back to the bar. His place was empty, just like my heart. I no longer touched my computer. I never thought that his absence would hurt me like that, I thought I loved him only as an actor, an admiration, a fantasy, but it was more than that. The happiness I had speaking with him, the moments spent in silence and immobility, alongside one and the other ... I finally understood. I wasn’t the only one who helped him get better, he had managed to help me too, to give me the long-awaited inspiration, the first person to make me feel in my place, he had managed to make me feel better without even knowing it. And now his absence weighed heavily on my heart. I had to admit it, the feelings I had for Dylan were no longer those of a simple fan, no. I had met his human side, his personality. I learnt somewhere that someone really knows a person only when he’s at the lowest. And that’s when the person sees who his true friends really are.

I really loved him. I knew that this love was one-sided, that his heart would always beat for Britt only even in the worst moments, but I loved him. And it was more painful to admit it.

Despite Dylan's absence on many evenings, I continued to go to the bar every night, and took advantage of my time alone to continue writing my novel. The ideas came one after the other and soon the number of words reached a point I never reached before, and I was very happy and proud. Moreover, too absorbed by my writing, I almost managed to forgot Dylan and the feelings I was carrying for him. All my attention was directed to my novel, and to the continuation of the events that would happen to the characters.

One evening when I settled down in my usual place, my drink was already waiting on the counter. I looked around, hoping to see him again, hoping Dylan was finally back. But there was no one except the usual guests, scattered everywhere. I sighed as I sat down and noticed something below my glass. There was a napkin, and something was written on it. I recognized the writing for having seen it a few times; it was Dylan's, and my heart began to beat fast.

Sorry about my absence. Let's meet at the little cafe on the adjacent street. I'll wait for you there.

I didn’t hesitate a second, didn’t touch my lemonade and left the bar quickly under the surprised but not interested glances of the few customers.

I had no problem finding the coffee, but I ran anyway. I was afraid of arriving too late, that it was only a joke, that he wouldn’t be there. The truth is; I missed his presence so much I was dying to see him again. It was a very strange like sensation. I went noisily into the silent cafe, which made everyone's head rise. I felt embarrassed by the rush I had caused, so I apologized briefly before looking around. It didn’t take long to find him, sitting in the back, his eyes on me, a shy smile on his lips. I melted even more when I saw how he was arranged. He had cut his beard, fixed his hair and put on clothes that suited him very well. He was beautiful and I couldn’t stop my heart beat that was too much loud. I smiled and went to him with my head down, with my cheeks quickly turning red.

"It's been a while," he told me as I sat in front of him, trying as best I could not meet his gaze which was only accelerating my heart rate.

"Yes," I mumbled before swallowing. "I missed you," I added before regretting my words.

Shit, well done Chloe! Do you realize what you've just said? Oh shit. I'm done. He'll find out I love him. He's going to find me weird. Oh no, worse, he'll realize that I'm a fan and will look at me as if I had betrayed him, that I had taken advantage of his confidence. I'm screwed.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I was ... busy," he continued before taking the menu. He was trying to hide himself behind it? I finally decided to look up at him and had to keep myself from smiling like an idiot. He had red on his cheeks and tried as best he could to remain calm by consulting the coffee menu. He was so adorable that I began to blush as well.

"I'm glad you came," he muttered, clearing his throat, his eyes still fixed on the menu. "I was afraid you wouldn’t see the message."

"And I was afraid I had seen it too late,” I answered, playing nervously with my fingers under the table. He was about to answer me when the waitress came to take our orders. Dylan just ordered a black coffee and asked me what I wanted. I ordered my favorite coffee, mocha, and the waitress left, leaving us alone again.

"Britt allowed me to come back home," he finally told me and I bent my head. "My girlfriend," he added, since he hadn’t told me her name the last time. "But it's no longer the same. Something changed."

"She changed?” I asked him, out of politeness. I had respect for Dylan, and even if I thought he deserved better, and above all that he deserved Britt's respect, I didn’t open my mouth to protest. It was his choice and I respected him.

"Well, it's rather ... the dynamic that has changed, I no longer feel in my place, I even kept the hotel room I rent, it's as if ..."

"I understand," I ended up saying and he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, and I smiled at him. I understood him, he didn’t need words. After all, we passed the beginning of our relationship in silence, in this shabby bar, too dark and too empty.

Our relationship…

What kind of relationship did I have with Dylan? Acquaintances? Friends? What was I to him? He didn’t even know my name, and besides I wasn’t supposed to know his, nor who he really was. But it was what I appreciated, to speak and to be with the true Dylan. Thinking that I didn’t know him, he could finally be himself. And he seemed to enjoy this kind of freedom, so I didn’t want to break the little happiness that had come back in his life and made his brown eyes shine again.

"Are you Dylan O'Brien? Oh my god I can’t believe this! Oh my god I adore you! Oh my God! Can I have a picture with you please? "

Someone was near our table, an acute voice that broke my eardrums. It was a fan, clearly, who had the chance to see his idol in a cafe, nothing very unsual so I don’t know why I tensed so much. Maybe because the fear of being discovered, that Dylan knows that in the end, I'm like that girl who jumps on the spot in front of him? Or the idea that if I hadn’t met Dylan in this bar, if I hadn’t noticed his distress, if I hadn’t chose to say nothing and just sit next to him in silence, I would be in that girl's place?

"Yes, haha, there's no worry," he replied nicely as he got up to get a picture with the fan. One of my dreams. But what am I talking about? I’m literally in a date with him, screw up the pictures!

After a quick and urgent thank you, Dylan sat down in front of me and I immediately looked at the table, unable to cross his eyes.

" I… "

"Here are your orders," the waitress said in a monotonous tone, putting our coffees in front of us before leaving. I took the opportunity to sip the coffee, to occupy my mouth and my hands.

"Well," he began, not knowing how to approach the subject, what had just happened. "I'm uhm ..." He continued as if it were a sin.

"Popular?" I tried to help him.

"I played in a few movies," he scratched the back of his head smiling with embarrassment. "And it reminded me that I never officially present myself, my name is Dylan," he finished handing me his hand over the table.

"Yes, I got that," I chuckled as I put down the cup and took his hand. It was cold in mine, probably because I had held a steaming cup a few moments ago. "I'm Chloe."

"Nice to meet you, Chloe," he said, smiling at me. Then he took his coffee and took a sip before resuming. "Tell me your story. What are you doing here? "

If I expected Dylan to ask me that question. I had to think for a moment before answering so much I was taken by surprise.

"Well, it's a long and not interesting story..."

"Tell me," Dylan cut me off with interest in the voice.

"Well, if you insist," I said taking a sip. "I ... I decided one morning to pack my bags, leave home to come here, with only my computer to pursue my dream," I told him.

He seemed surprised.

"Wow ... you made it all this way for your dream? It’s beautiful to see, that you pursue your dreams," he said, winking at me, which made me melt on my chair. For a moment I lost my sense of speech before I resumed.

"It doesn’t really go well..."

"Why is that? "

I didn’t need to answer because he understood immediately. Sometimes our ability to understand each other in silence impressed me.

"Your computer ... you write a novel? And ... it’s not going well? "

I took my computer out of my bag, packed my coffee on the side to put it on the table.

"I came here for inspiration and ..." I started, hesitating to tell him. "I found it in the end ..." I finished looking up at him to make him understand I was talking about him. He was my inspiration.

"Oh ..." Was all he said to me. "Can I?” Dylan asked me, stretching out his hands, oh his magnificent hands, to take my computer. I opened it, entered my password and opened the word document, a stress raising more and more in me, my heart accelerating in my chest as well. Then, with a very high nervousness, I turned my screen towards him. Not only did I make him read a work in progress, which I usually allow only my close friends for advice, like Steff or Lau for example, but it was Dylan O'Brien who was reading it.

Ah and he was the inspiration of the story, slight detail.

He thanked me and began to read. For my part, the stress burned my stomach and I began to drum my foot while sipping my mocha very quickly, while observing his reaction. His eyes that roamed the screen, his finger on the pad that descended the pages. Did he like? Did he think it suck? It was impossible to say. And I was out of coffee.

At the end of an eternity, he shut the screen of my computer, staring into the void, as if he was thinking. I put my elbows on the table, impatient to hear his opinion.

"Wow," he said looking at me. I was biting my lip anxiously.

"Wow?" I repeated.

"Wow," he replied, which made us both burst out laughing.

"Seriously, it's excellent. The story, the character, the descriptions ... it's so realistic ... I had chills and feels. You're very talented Chloe. "

The compliment went to the bottom of my heart and a huge smile stretched my face. It was the most beautiful thing I was ever told, and I felt a new joy invading my body.

"Thank you very much Dylan! Your words touch me very much! "

He put his hands on mine, smiled at me and I felt the red invade my cheeks at a crazy speed. I didn’t know if it was my eyes that played tricks on me, but I swore that I saw the same pink color on his cheeks.

The rest of the evening passed admirably well. We talked about everything and nothing, some interesting subjects for us that probably weren’t for others. I had great pleasure in conversing with him, and it was sad that I had to leave him to go home and sleep since I was working the next day. At the moment of leaving, we had a little embarrassing moment when we didn’t know how to say goodbye. Finally, Dylan took me in his arms for a brief hug and my legs would have let me go if I didn’t lean against the coffee diner door.

That night I had difficulty sleeping, surely the stress still present in my body just like the caffeine in my blood. The next day I woke up too late for work. And during my whole working day my cell phone never stopped ringing, vibrating with messages that I didn’t have time to read. I had to catch up, so I turned my phone off and set to work. It was only in the evening that I remembered the many messages that I decided to consult while I was heading to the bar to see if Dylan was there. My cell opened and displayed 51 text messages and 23 missed calls with 15 voice messages. My eyes widened. It must have been very important!

I pushed open the doors of the bar, but saw no one in the usual place. I approached in the hope that maybe he had left a word, but nothing.

He must be at the cafe, I told myself leaving the bar by playing the first message.

Chlo, it's me, you absolutely have to connect on Tumblr, it's incredible!

Second message.

Chlo, it's urgent take your message!

Go on Tumblr!

Chlooooo answers!

This is the fifteenth message fuck, take your voice mails!!!

CHLO YOU’RE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR

This last message made me stop in the middle of the road. I was on Tumblr? But what was so important to see on Tumblr for me to receive so many messages? I become to stress and it was with trembling fingers that I opened the network and connected to my account. And as if the world was against me, the connection decided to be slow and buggy as fuck for a while before running. When finally I was connected, it was the avalanche of messages here too, of all my writer friends but also many other people. And the first publication at the top was enough to explain the situation to me.

Dylan O'Brien, a cheater? He is seen next to a stranger in a little cafe!

Followed by a photo of us two sitting in front of our coffee, smiling.

Further down, another picture of us, when we are saying goodbye, at the time of the hug.

Who is this mysterious unknown girl who stole the heart of Dylan O'Brien from Britt Robinson?

No, no, no ... we didn’t recognize my face very well on the pictures, but that wasn’t the problem. Stupid paparazzi who didn’t respect people’s lives! These photos would only worsen the situation with Britt! She was going to be sure of the infidelity of Dylan when everything is false, he would become sad again because of me!

" No! No!” I said, probably passing for crazy to talk to myself on the street.

Lucky her!

Well done. She doesn’t deserve Dylan, this Britt.

Wow, new photos!

Stop re-blogging! Stop! You mustn’t! Dylan is going to have problems!

"Chloe? Everything is fine? I was waiting for you at the cafe, but seeing that you weren’t coming I thought you might have gone to the bar before and ... are you okay? "

I looked up from my phone to see a worried Dylan, who stretched a hesitant hand toward me. He probably didn’t know yet, and if I told him, I would flame my blanket from normal person to fan. If I showed him my Tumblr, I was screwed.

"I ... I ..." I started, feeling tears of guilt burning my eyes.

"Shhh ....” He whispered, taking me in his arms. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm sorry ..." I started and he drew back to look in my eyes as he thumbed my cheek to chase a tear.

"And why?"

"I lied to you… "

He leaned his head to one side, not understanding immediately.

"Okay ... but still?"

"And because of me ... because of me ..."

"Shhhh ..." He repeated his hand gently over my shoulder. "Explain to me calmly what is going on, Chlo."

"I knew who you were from the beginning," I ended up saying by feeling an immense weight leaving my shoulders to be replaced by the pain of guilt. And this guilt grew worse when I saw him lower his eyes.

"But I never wanted to..."

"Here you are, Dylan!"

A screeching voice cut me off in my explanations, and I saw the last person in the world whom I wished to see rush towards us at full speed, and a slap sounded in the air. She had just slapped him.

Britt had just slapped Dylan in front of everyone, who stopped to look at the scene. I wanted to disappear; I didn’t feel at my place.

"Britt ... I ..."

"No, I don’t want your lies! I saw the pictures; they are all over my Instagram! What will my fans think?” Then her vulture’s eyes landed on me. "You cheated me for her? You have no taste. "

"That's not what you think!” I began, trying to defend Dylan as best I could. The latter had his head lowered, his hand on his bruised cheek, his heart probably broken.

"You, shut the fuck up. You're a dirty egoist who steals others' boyfriends just because you get the chance! You're nothing but a finished fan of the greatest actor Dylan O'Brien, like all the others! But guess what? He’s mine!"

Ouch. That hurts.

"That's not true," a voice made behind us. Dylan had recovered from the slap and stood by me. "She's not like the others. She was there when I needed it. She didn’t ask me for pictures. Neither autograph. She talked to me like a human being and for the first time in so long I felt normal, and you know what? It made me feel so good. If Chloe hadn’t had the courage that evening to sit beside me and drink one of my glasses, I would probably still be sitting in front of a bunch of alcohol tonight.” He looked me in the eye and smiled. I had tears in my eyes as his speech touched me. "I don’t care if she's a fan, I don’t care if she knows my filmography by heart. She treated me like someone who needed help. A human with feelings, emotions, flaws and above all, someone who isn’t an actor. "

"You have been with her for weeks ?!"

"Chloe was more there for me in the last weeks that you were during our entire relationship! "

Ouch. Well said, Dylan.

"You are the selfish one. You are the one who cheated on me, you are the one who hurts me! And Chloe ... well Chloe groomed the wounds and fix the pieces that YOU broke and you know what? "

He held out his hand and grabbed mine.

"I love her. "

I almost choked in my saliva so these words took me by surprise. I blinked several times before looking at him.

"What? You really cheat on me then! "

"No. I leave you, it’s over between us," he replied before dragging me away from her. I let myself be carried away, and passed the next few minutes in a well-known silence, walking rapidly from street to street. I didn’t know what to say. He loved me. He had confessed in front of many witnesses. Finally, we arrived at a hotel and he led me into a room to finally close the door without opening the light. We remained in the silence for a few seconds and I felt his head snuggle against my neck and something wet falling on my shoulder, soon followed by sobs. I closed my eyes, feeling tears also invading my eyes and made comforting rounds on his back with my hand. I let him cry like that for a long time, I even lost count of the minutes that passed. But it didn’t matter because I knew he needed it. He needed this silence to cry. After a moment I heard him sniff.

"Thank you… "

"It takes courage to do what you have done," I said, continuing to stroke his back.

"It feels good ..." He replied, his face still snuggling in my neck.

"I guess it does," I said softly. New silence as he steps back to look at me.

"I was sincere back then, I love you Chloe ..."

My heart made a stronger babum.

"Even ... even if I am ... a fan?" I ventured, always been certain that celebrities couldn’t go out with their fans.

"Well, I'm a fan of you too, then," he told me, which left me confused. "I must be the first and most devoted fans of your novel."

I understood, laughing softly, and he brought his face closer to mine to lay his lips against mine, which made me freeze and gave me chills all over the body. Dylan prolonged the kiss by placing his hands against my hips, while I put one of mine on his cheek and the other in his hair. After a moment, panting, our mouths parted and he placed his forehead against mine.

"I love you too, Dylan."

Like I said, or I will say it: I have nothing agains’t Britt personnaly. Everyone has their opinions. For the sake of this story, I made it that way. I don’t want to start a huge fight on my blog. Thank you for your understanding! And please leave a feedback? Sorry I delete it and then repost it. I won’t delete it. Give me all a proof I did the right thing or I’ll stay anxious haha. Or don’t. I don’t know I’m just gonna go and post the other fic I deleted.

#dylan o'brien #fanfic dylan o'brien #imagine dylan o'brien #celebrity fic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #thomas the maze runner #stuart twombly #the internship #american assassin mitch rapp #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan O'brien fanfiction #Dylan O'brien fic

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