(For all of you Drew + Dylan shippers...wait sh*t spoiler God damn)

Not Edited

(Do I wanna know?)

If this feeling flows both ways.

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby we both know)

That nights were mainly made for saying

And things that you can't say tomorrow day.

Crawlin' back to you.

(Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys)

A week passes. It's nearing the date of my banquet. My mom, she's called, once or twice. It's always the same.

"Sorry, I can't come home now, sweetie. I'm meeting with grandma and grandpa. I love you. Are you eating right? Your voice sounds different."

Yeah, it sounds different because everyday I'm losing my mind worrying about you.

I settle back into my bed, finally having time to relax in days. As I relax, closing my eyes and thinking about nothing, my phone rings.

I groan. Keeping my eyes shut, I slip my phone from the pocket of my skinny jeans and hit answer - kinda shows how addicted I am to my phone.

"Hm?" I hum incoherently. 

"Dylan," a hoarse, husky voice shocks me so deeply I am on my feet in seconds. "I ... I need you."

"Drew," I whisper, "what's wrong?"

He coughs, and gags. I cover my mouth as he talks again. "I ... I'm in the alley by 34th street on Harbor Boulevard. I need-" he coughs again. "Please."

Harbor Boulevard. Next to our school.

I'm already running out of my room, worry filling me. I suddenly stop in my tracks; how the hell am I supposed to get there?

I suddenly remember - my mom. She'd left her car back a few days ago, while I was sleeping.

For once, mom, I respect your decisions of leaving.

Drew coughs again, making me sprint to the chest of drawers and pull each one, searching frantically for the key.

"Hold on for me," I plead, spotting the silver key. It almost slips through my fingers as my hands are clammy. "I'll be there soon."

"Don't hang up," he whispers. "Please don't le-"

He coughs again, making my body shake as I run to the car in the garage. I unlock the door, sliding in and turning the key into the ignition.

"Sh," I murmur, holding the phone to my ear as I put the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway and speeding. "I'm ... I'm coming, Drew."

"That's what she said," he adds in a jarring voice. I roll my eyes. Even though he sounds like he ran to hell and back, he still manages to be a pervert.

"Hush." I say, holding back my laughter. The pedal is literally on the floor. 

I finally make it to Harbor Boulevard, my heart pounding in my chest. Am I ready to see the boy I've been discreetly avoiding for the past week? Am I truly ready?

I kick the car door open, listening to him retch. Screw the car. I need to help him. 

I sprint to the alley, my legs taking me there fast. My blood is like adrenaline pumping through my veins. The chill of the autumn night is barely a bite as I finally round the corner.

The street light shines directly on him. He's barely standing, his eyes closed, and pressing his phone to his ear. 

"Drew?" I ask softly. His eyes immediately snap open, blue and clear. He has a black eye. His mouth is bloody. His lip is split.

"Oh my God," he mutters. He stumbles forward, the blue light of the moon splashing over his face. He's as handsome as ever, of course, but something's off.

His eyes. Oh God, his eyes. They're so broken, so empty. 

In a last-minute decision, I extend my arms. He looks at me like I'm so close to breaking, and then collapses forward into my arms. He's shaking. I gently touch his face, leveling his clear eyes with mine.

"Dylan," he whispers, his cool, minty breath fanning over my face. I sigh. He looks at me quizzically, asking the silent question. What's wrong?

"I'm guessing this is the part," I sigh again. He cocks his head to one side. "This is the part where you act all stoic and say how much of a mistake this is."

He bites his lip so hard a dab of crimson falls onto his chin. I reach up and stop the bleeding with  the edge of my sleeve.

"Dylan, you have to understand why I can't be with you," he says in a low voice.

"Tell me, then!" I say angrily. "I'm sick of all these secrets! I'm sick of you going for me and then rejecting me! I'm not one of your sluts, Drew." 

He gathers my face in his hands. My breath hitches. "Is that what you thought? That you were one of my 'sluts'?"

"Y..." I can't even form a word.

"You will never, ever be like them," he hisses through clenched teeth. "You have to understand, Dylan. My father..." he winces. "He ... he is a very, very bad person," he is refraining from punching something, and cussing, I can tell. "Which automatically makes me a bad person."

"D-"

He cuts me off with a burst of humorless, angry laughter. "I have to pay for my sperm donor's mistakes," he clenches his jaw again. "It usually ends up in someone getting hurt, or, better yet," his voice is flaming with sarcasm. "...killed."

There is an edge to his voice that tells me that, if I get hurt, It will not be the first time.

"I'm ... I don't care," I try to reason, my voice cracking with anger. Whoever's hurt Drew ... whoever he lost, he definitely loved. Loved so much he's built these freaking walls, pulling girls under before throwing them out.

"I don't want you hurt," he brushes under my eye with his thumb. I shiver. "I'm just ... I can't."

Shocking both him and myself, I pull him in, pressing my face to his neck and wrapping my arms around his waist. The chill of the autumn air is nothing now. I bite down on my lip, so hard it draws tears to my eyes. His heartbeat is steady. 

I pull my head back, my chest still pressed to his, cupping the back of his neck. I stare into the pools of electric blue, the inky blue lining his pupils. God. His eyes are so beautiful. 

"You have really pretty eyes," I murmur before I can stop myself.

He chuckles, one corner of his lips pulling up. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes are nostalgic. "The last time you said something like that is when you were drunk."

I blush. "Oh. Moment ruined."

"I don't mind," he chuckles. "We pretty much made out after that."

"Oh, f-"

He shushes me, grinning broadly. "It was so cute. Not the kissing, that was unbelievably sexy," he cocks a brow. "But you rambling and shit. I was seriously about to 'aw'."

I almost grin. Almost. "That would've been entertaining."

"I know."

It's silent for a while. Then, he breaks the silence.

"You know ... they might come after you," he spits the word 'they' with such hatred, it surprises how dark he is. 

"I don't care," I answer, looking away from him, uncomfortable. He was right, a couple of days ago. I can't look him in the eyes without flinching or looking away.

"You should," he mutters. I shrug.

"I don't."

He looks at my face. Actually looks at me. I swallow harshly under his intense stare. 

"Why ... why are you looking at me like that?" I ask bashfully.

"Because you're not bad to look at," he says, almost sardonically. My face, which is already slightly pink from our previous 'conversation', explodes with colour. That is so close to calling me the 'b' word!

'B', meaning 'beautiful'.

"Thanks, I guess," I swallow back the equally sarcastic reply I'm close to giving him.

"You-"

"Steele? I know you're here!"

His head whips toward me. "Fucking hide!" He lets go of my waist, pointing to the dumpster. "Behind there."

I glance at him before ducking, hiding myself. I slide down the wall just in time to see a lean, tall man with a leather jacket who couldn't have been older than nineteen. Wisps of a tattoo is peeking out from his neck, and his dark blonde hair is falling into his black eyes. He's crossing his arms, staring at Drew expectantly.

"Smith," Drew nods, stepping back, his boots hitting the ground in an intimidating way. I gulp.

"Quite a beating, I see," Smith, as Drew calls him, acknowledges the bruises on Drew's face. "Didn't get the money to V yet?"

"Obviously not," Drew clenches his jaw, folding his arms across his chest. I pull my legs to my chest.

Please don't see me, please don't see me.

"What about that little brunette you're always staring at?" Drew opens his mouth, probably to object, but Smith cuts him off. "Yeah, don't even try to deny it. We've hung around HH, dude. Fuck, you look so lovesick," he chuckles. 

HH. Harbour High. 

I clap my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp. Freshman year. Guys in dark clothing talking to the boy in my third period, the one who slept with Katie Andrews, the most popular chick in school. The boy with the killer smile. The boy with the tired blue eyes.

Sophomore year. I'd lost my bracelet. The year the notorious, and young, players tried to flirt with me at a Halloween dance. Also the year I saw someone getting threatened with a knife. All I can remember is pleading, electric eyes. I didn't do anything, too scared of getting shanked.

Junior year. The blue-eyed boy walked into school that morning with a cut cheek and a black eye. He smirked and told all of his fan girls to 'see the other guy'. He was watching me at lunch. I flipped him off.

Senior year.

Oh, screw me.

"What about her?" Drew's voice is oddly calm.

"She's pretty, you know," despite the fact that he's just so blatantly called me 'pretty', his tone of voice sends shivers up and down my spine. "So pure, so innocent. She acts as if she doesn't know life is shit," he laughs humorlessly. "It would be a shame if V gets particularly angry at you ... one smart ass comment too many..."

"Shut it now, Smith." ...and the calm is gone. Drew's jaw ticks.

Smith sighs, his posture relaxing and he runs his hand through his hair. He seems less scary now. "Listen, Steele ... V, he got me here to scare you, rile you up," he rolls his eyes. "Son of a bitch. Anyway," he half-smiles. "The girl ... whoever she is ... she's good for you. Makes you happy. I don't want her out of your life." He reaches out and grips Drew's shoulder. They're roughly the same height. "Don't shut her out. Be with her in secret. Pull a Romeo and Juliet shit, except without the entire suicide thing."

"Thanks, Smith," Drew says, smiling. 

It's quiet for a moment.

"Her name ... it's Dylan," Drew murmurs.

"Fits her."

"She wears it well." Drew nods. 

Smith mutters something too low for me to catch. Then, he salutes Drew and stalks off. 

I crawl from behind the dumpster. Drew, who seemingly looks better, smiles, captures my hand, and kisses it. I shiver at the small intimacy he's shown. 

"Do you ..." Ah, God, I'm tripping over my words. "Do you want to crash at my place? I mean, you don't have to, I'm n-not-"

He laughs. "Sure. I don't really want to go home, anyway."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

***

I pull up in my driveway, turning the key to stop the car. Drew's head is against the window, his eyes closed. I smile faintly. 

"Hey, lazy ass, wake up," I shake him softly. His eyes open.

"I wasn't sleeping," he says in a clear voice. I roll my eyes.

"Sure. Come on, I'm tired ... I just want to sleep."

He follows me into the empty house. I drop the spare key back to its original place, pulling out my hair elastic and shaking my head. Drew's eyes are on me as I sigh shakily, tired and wanting to forget about everything.

"M...my room's up here," I stutter, pointing up the stairs.

"Well then, CG," he smirks. "What are we waiting for?"

I walk ahead, my back straight.

Stop being a wuss. It's not like he's expecting to sex you up right now.

Or ... is he?

I gulp, treading down the hall. I grab a blanket and a pillow from the closet - cabinet thing across the hall. I'm sleeping on the ground tonight. He may have other injuries I don't know of.

I open the door to my room, letting the breath I'd been holding escape. 

In a flash - or he's already there ... I don't know - he's behind me. I can only tell because, when I look down, his boots are right behind my sneakers.

"Nice room," he comments.

I shrug. "Thanks."

Drew steps past me, his arms brushing against mine, making blush explode across my cheeks for no reason. God. This guy, he always has me nervous.

He turns to smirk at me. Even with a black eye and a split lip, he's sexy. Like, not the kind of sexy that girls bite their lip and flirt with, but the kind that makes people want to rip off someone's clothes and not leave the bedroom until they are dying of exhaustion. 

Whoa, calm down, Dylan.

Drew is about a foot away. Not far, but definitely not close. Oh, hell. I want to kiss him so badly. 

He smirks. I cover my mouth, realizing that I didn't exactly keep that thought to myself.

"Well then," he clicks his tongue, back to his arrogant self. That side of him always leaves me angry ... but also turned on like a light switch. "I can't help it if I'm just so sexy that I-"

I snort, cutting him off. "Please. The arrogance does not work with you."

Yes, it does. It so does.

"I think you're lying," I'm not sure if I want to kiss or slap that stupid, hot, lopsided grin he's wearing. He steps closer. "You want me."

Yes, I freaking do.

"N-no."

"C'mon, don't lie to me, Camera Girl," he's close enough to touch ... oh God. Am I eye-raping him? I can't tell if he's doing the same to me. 

If he is, well gosh diddly darn.

"Fine," I say. "I want you. Happy?" Sarcasm is dripping in my tone. 

Drew looks surprised. "Didn't think you'd admit it."

I move to say on the ground. "I don't lie. Whatever, I'm sleeping on the fl-"

"Oh, no, you're not."

Then his mouth is pressing to mine. I gasp. 

Drew's fingers dig into my sides as he kisses me, pulling me closer. I stand on my tip toes, pressing my lips to his fully. He reaches up, copping my cheeks and tilting his head to one side slowly, deepening the kiss. Oh my God. This is so good.

All coherent thought vanishes as his tongue runs over my bottom lip, making my mouth part silently. His tongue snakes into my mouth. I moan, pleasure running through my entire body. 

My fingers trail up his back, knotting into his thick hair. He gasps, his fingers clenching the edge of my shirt. 

This is, quite literally, too good to be true. I mean, if I were to wake up right now, finding out this is a dream, and I have a project due tomorrow, I would not be surprised.

But this isn't a dream.

This is real.

I am forcefully making out with Drew Steele.

Déjà vu ... except I'm not wasted.

I pull back, tugging on his hair. His eyes open.

"What the fuck," he roughly searches for my mouth again, but I turn my head, making his hot lips hit my cheek.

"S-stop!" I whisper, almost pained. Drew looks at me.

"What's wrong?"

Oh, God, I need this.

I'm not having sex, not tonight ... but I want his mouth a few more times.

"The," I point to my bed, to breathless to form a sentence. He knits his eyebrows together in confusion. "No sex," I elaborate, face flushing. "Just ... just..." I struggle to find the right word. 'Making out' is so careless. I want more than that. I want this to mean something.

Drew seems to catch on, because he smiles once, and hitches my legs onto his hips. As if I'm weightless. I pant quietly - everything is just so heated ... I can't really breathe.

And then I'm on my back, on the bed, him hovering over me. He's not exactly touching me, except my legs locked around his slim waist. 

He slowly presses his body to me. My breath becomes ragged as I realize I'm not the only one who's excited. There's a bulge pressing to my inner thigh. Drew's eyes lock with mine. 

I bring his mouth to mine, meeting him in a swift kiss, before his lips trail from mine to my neck. His tongue sweeps across my collarbone, pressing a heated kiss to the hollow of my throat. Holy crap. 

I moan, making him grip my hips even tighter. Not painfully. 

He leans back up, pressing his mouth to mine and making a noise in the back of his throat. My stomach clenches nervously. My knees shake, and my jaw twitches. What if I'd let it get farther than kissing?

I pull away from him, his mouth was captivating me ... a lot. For a moment we just sit there, panting and staring at each other. 

That was, no doubt, one of the best make out sessions I've ever had. Not like I've had a lot ... But yeah, the best.

"You're blushing," he murmurs, making me go an even deeper red. I take a deep breath.

"Oh God," I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 

"Mhm," he's still on top of me, stroking my hair with a gentle touch. I shiver.

Damn. I'm so gone on this boy, and he doesn't even know it.

A/N: 

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies...

I'm back! After not updating for nine days ... yeah...

Long-ish chapter? Maybe deserves a vote/comment? I mean, 3000 estimated words. WOO! 

So they made out ... yeah.

Can you name the song and band from the lyrics at the beginning of the A/N? I'll shout out to whoever gets it first. 

TOTALLY FORGOT TO DO THIS: Shout out to @anigroeg for coming up with 'Drewlan'. If anyone else has other ship names, tell me! I personally read all of your comments.

Until next time,

~Jayy