Two days had passed, and Flynn and Dylan still hadn't returned to the apartment. Ever since Dylan gave Flynn a phone, Dylan had noticed something odd—Flynn was often glued to it. There were even times when someone would call, and Flynn would quietly step away the moment he answered. Dylan noticed, but he didn't press the issue. He chose to ignore it and let Flynn be.
One afternoon, while Flynn and Dylan were working on their assignment together, Lucas suddenly called Flynn over to help him with something. Dylan was left alone in the room and continued working on their assignment.
Not long after, Flynn's phone began to ring.
When Dylan looked at it, only an unknown number appeared on the screen. Out of curiosity, he answered the call.
"Flynn?" a woman's voice spoke from the other line.
Hearing a woman's voice made Dylan's brow crease, especially when she called out Flynn's name. "He's not here. Who is this?" Dylan asked.
"I'm Flynn's girlfriend," the woman replied.
Dylan's expression darkened at her words. He didn't know if she was telling the truth or just playing a joke on him.
"Girlfriend?" Dylan said coldly. "Well, I'm his boyfriend. So don't call this number again."
He ended the call immediately.
A few moments later, Flynn returned. Dylan quickly placed Flynn's phone back on the table. "Someone called your phone. Probably just messing around. She said she's your girlfriend."
The moment Flynn heard that, he immediately grabbed his phone and walked out of the room.
"Where are you going? Don't tell me she really is your girlfriend? Hey! Flynn!" Dylan called out.
But Flynn didn't respond. He walked straight out of the room without even looking back.
From a distance, Dylan saw Flynn make a call and start talking on the phone outside. A tightness formed in his chest, but he forced himself not to follow. For now, he chose not to push, deciding to let Flynn handle whatever it was on his own.
The next day, after their class, Dylan decided they should return to his apartment when Brent mentioned he was going back to his hotel.
While Flynn was watching TV, the doorbell rang suddenly. When he opened the door, Brent was standing there.
"Brent," Flynn said.
Brent ignored him and walked straight in. Flynn just returned to the living room, sat back on the couch, and resumed watching TV. He noticed Brent pacing slowly around the room, one arm tucked against his torso, elbow resting lightly, while his index finger tapped gently against his temple, as if deep in thought. There were moments when Brent would scan the apartment, studying its furnishings and layout carefully.
"Dylan's still in the shower... he'll be done soon," Flynn muttered, unable to ignore Brent's restless energy.
"It's fine. I'm not here for him anyway," Brent replied casually. He walked over to the counter bar, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured himself a glass. The first sip seemed unpleasant, and he promptly spat it back into the glass. Flynn saw this and just shook his head, amused.
Soon, Dylan finished his shower. It was a habit of his to step out of the bathroom completely naked after bathing, unaware that Brent was already in the living room. As he stepped out, towel in hand, Dylan walked toward the living room, drying his hair.
"Flynn, can you—"
His words stopped abruptly when he locked eyes with Brent.
"Shit! You're here, huh?" Dylan blurted, quickly wrapping the towel around his waist to cover himself. Flynn couldn't help but laugh at the scene.
Brent turned away, holding his forehead as he took in the sight of Dylan naked. "You and your new cousin are awfully comfortable with each other to be walking around the apartment like that."
Quickly, Dylan grabbed the bathrobe from the couch and put it on, then sat down next to Flynn.
"What is he doing here?" Dylan asked.
"Just watch," Flynn replied.
Brent started pacing again, circling the living room until he stopped by the wall, staring at the picture frames hanging there. "Who picked these? They look cheap... like no thought went into it," he muttered, continuing to walk around the apartment. "The fridge is tiny. Almost nothing fits in it. The table... barely enough for two. What happens when you have guests?"
Flynn and Dylan exchanged glances but didn't respond.
Flynn ignored him outwardly, but inside, his mind wandered back to the time he and Dylan shopped for the apartment's furnishings. Flynn had mostly chosen the items, intentionally keeping things simple and affordable since it was just the two of them.
Dylan couldn't hold back any longer and decided to speak. "I thought you went back to your hotel?"
"Yeah, I did. But I figured I'd come back... you two have been avoiding me for a few days," Brent said.
"We're not avoiding you. We were really just visiting Flynn's dad at his place," Dylan replied. "Why are you here anyway?"
"Nothing important. Just something I forgot to mention," Brent said.
"You could've just messaged me."
"I wanted it to be personal. Anyway, tomorrow you'll join me for a meeting."
"Okay. I'll catch up with you after class."
"Why do you sound like you're in a hurry to leave me?"
"We're going to sleep soon. We have class tomorrow."
Brent glanced at the clock—only nine in the evening. "That's too early to sleep. Usually, people your age are still awake at this hour, going to bed late."
"That's them," Dylan said with a shrug.
Brent sighed, frustrated by Dylan's insistence, and decided to head back to his hotel. "Fine," Brent muttered. "I'm probably interrupting whatever it is you two still plan on doing anyway. Just don't be late tomorrow." Brent said coldly, not bothering to look back as he left.
Once Brent was gone, the two of them finally breathed out at the same time, as if the air in the room had suddenly been released after being held hostage.
"Your brother is... something else," Flynn said.
"I told you—I told you—he's not a good person." Dylan replied.
"Not bad, exactly," Flynn said thoughtfully. "He's just... incredibly meticulous. Maybe that's what happens when people get older."
"He's twenty-one," Dylan said simply.
"What? Twenty-one?" Flynn exclaimed.
"He's only two years older than me," Dylan added.
"That young? The way he carries himself, you'd think he was in his late thirties."
"That's how he's always been, even when we were kids," Dylan said. "But still... he's the one I spent the most time with. He's the one I always turned to after my mom died."
"And you still say he's bad?"
"He is," Dylan insisted. "So don't get too close to him."
Flynn didn't understand why Dylan always called Brent a bad person, yet he was the one Dylan had always turned to since they were kids. He just nodded in agreement, not wanting to ask any more questions.