alright ↠ dylan o'brien

sixteen.

I can feel your breath

I can feel my death

I want to know you, I want to see,

I want to say 'Hello'

-Trees by twenty one pilots

Lola

Snow touched my skin and melted as if it was on fire the moment Dylan opened the door at the top of the storage building. A foggy sky emitting snow met my eyes. This was the only place I wanted to be—the only place I could think of being.

        I climbed to the top of the ladder, following behind Dylan. My feet met a ground that was made of some sort of crushed rock, or gray powder that moved and dispersed when the wind blew. Moving towards the walls, I stood next to Dylan and overlooked the city. "Wow," I breathed. The view never ceased to amaze me.

       "Yeah..." Dylan replied.

       "I still don't understand how you could find a place like this," I exaggerated.

        "Just a mix of a drunken night and a screwed-up mind," Dylan muttered.

         I could tell he was still upset about what had happened in the bar. Why wouldn't he be? He just saw his "friend" making out with his girlfriend behind his back. That was a big betrayal.

        "I'm sorry, Dylan," I spoke sincerely.

        "She told me she loved me seven freaking hours ago," he spat. "It's. . . it's whatever, it's done." He rubbed his hands over his face once and then ran them through his hair. Frustration and sadness emitted off of him and reflected on to me. It was hard not to see the war that was being fought in his head, and the probability that he was on the losing side.

        "She wasn't worth it, I can tell you that. And I know that you know it too," I admitted.

        "Yeah, I know she wasn't," he told me. "Doesn't mean it hurts any less."

        "I know. . ." I trailed off. "I guess we've both been screwed over by the wrong people."

         "Apparently," Dylan chuckled slightly.

          "I read this book once that had this quote that said, 'You don't want to go out of this world with regrets. If there's something you want to do, you do it. You take this life by the balls and you tell it that you existed.'"

         Dylan laughed half-heartedly.

     "It's true, though. And then all the kids there stood at the top of the building and yelled to the whole world that they existed. And I think you, Dylan O'Brien, regretted going out with Ashley Hernetta the moment she said yes."

      "Also true."

      "So tell her that you don't care. Tell this whole damn world that you don't care. Tell it that you existed, and that no matter what it does to you, you're always better than it. Because the world is falling down, and you can't just let it take you down with it," I exclaimed, pretty much fantasizing by that point. I poured a lot of my thoughts out. It was most of my troubles and thoughts that were running through my head in a constant stream, just put into a short story.

       Silence rang out. Well, apart from cars down below. And singing. And music. And the sound of our breathing.

       "Fine," Dylan responded. He glanced over at me for a slight moment and smirked. Then, he looked back to the city and began to yell. "I EXISTED!"