Chapter 2

Third Person’s POV

It’s been quite a few days since then— aside from bruises on Dylan’s face and body, he feels fine. He wasn’t ready to do anything, so he just stayed in place. However, Dylan still thinks about the person who stayed with him. He wants to talk to that person and give them his gratitude, yet he can’t find the courage to seek that person since he’ll need help from his father to track that person down. All he remembers from that person is how their fingers felt on his face. 

He lit a cigar but didn’t put it on his lips. Instead, he let it burn through his fingertips. Now that he’s powerless, he wonders if they’ll use this as a chance to gang up on him and beat him. 

I don’t mind, but I want to thank that person before I end up in a hospital, injured and nearing death.

“What a waste,” a familiar voice appears

“You’re here,” Dylan replies

Jamir, was once his right-hand man. “Duh.” Jamir scoffs. He grabs Dylan’s cigar and lights his cigar with its flames.

Dylan closes his eyes and leans back. I wonder why he’s still here. He should go with the majority if he doesn’t want to get beaten up with me. 

“What’s your plan now?” Jamir asks Dylan.

Dylan keeps his silence. I haven’t really thought of it. Aren’t I a disappointment already? What’s the use of doing good now?

“We f*cked up badly. Seeing that things are escalating this way, I’m going to apologize. I know it won’t fix anything, but trying won’t hurt me.” Jamir says. This made Dylan look at Jamir. “How about you? Aren’t you going to move forward?”

In all honesty, I also want to, but it’s far too late. The pain I brought Tristan will never go away. Dylan just stared in front of him and let his cigar fall to the floor when it burned his fingers.

“I’ll leave you to think. I’m going.” Jamir left him, and Dylan began thinking. 

Eventually, it’ll be revealed that Tristan’s severe injuries is due to bullying. They will question the students, and the students will say it's us. We can’t escape this. Dylan grips his hair and sighs. Jamir said he was going to apologize but how will he start, though? 

Once the bells rang, Dylan went home immediately. The guards and maids greeted him as soon as he stepped into the house, so he answered them with a faint hum, startling them. 

“I won’t be eating dinner.”

“Yes, young sir.” The head maid replied.

Still feeling lethargic even doing nothing, Dylan wore something cozy, slept early, then hoped that tomorrow would hold sunny weather.

Is he not here yet? Dylan takes one last look at Tristan’s classroom, hoping to see even just his faint shadow. No, his presence is not here. “Tell him I’m looking for him,” Dylan says and turns.

“I can’t! He’s been absent for days now.” Tristan’s female classmate replied.

Absent? How unusual. He’s not the type who skips classes, even if he’s bruised all over. Dylan’s heart suddenly hammered in his chest, making him stand still. He touched his chest, stunned, yet regardless of such a sudden feeling, he disregarded it and returned to his classroom. 

A few more days have passed, and Tristan still isn’t coming to class. He can't get much information about Tristan from his classmates since they are not in the same class. All Dylan knows, for now, is Tristan’s homeroom teacher failed to get a glimpse of Tristan from his own home because his father said he wasn’t there and had run away. And today— a Saturday— Tristan’s homeroom teacher and a few more teachers will try to see if Tristan’s father’s statement is true.

Dylan harshly combs his hair and thinks about how to apologize. However, this tolled his mentality and didn’t do him anything good. Furiously letting out a breath, Dylan shuts his eyes tight. For now, I’ll sleep and then get my sh*t tomorrow.