Chapter 5

Dylan’s POV

After that, my brother left; today, Tristan’s medical records were in his hands. I would’ve probed more if he hadn’t gone, but even though I stopped him by the arm, he flung my grip away, making me more agitated and dumbfounded.

I’m in my room now, watching Tristan, still fast asleep on the bed. While waiting for him to wake up, I asked people online how to make up for someone I hurt. Each answered differently, but the most I read is that I should be sincere and consistent with the victim. Their answers made me once again aware of my standing in his life. I’m a person who brought him immeasurable pain, so do I even have the right to associate myself with him? 

“Young sir, dinner is ready,” a maid says.

I answer. “Bring an extra serving with you.”

“Yes, of course.”

A few moments later, the door opens, and two servings of food are placed on the table. So, hoping its aroma might wake Tristan, I pull the food closer to him. I waited and waited, but Tristan didn’t move a flinch, not until the clock struck at 8 o’clock. He finally opened his eyes and went to look at me.

“Hey,” I whisper.

His eyes grow cautious, and I raise my hands instinctively. As soon as he comprehends my action, he jolts awake and falls to the floor.

“I’ll help you up,” I say. Tristan looks around and then notices the darkness outside the window. 

“T-Time,” he stutters.

I step back away from him. “It’s 8:03 PM. You were asleep for 14 hours.”

Fear envelopes his eyes. “I- Home.”

“We’ll drive you there. It’ll take forever if you walk,” I gesture to the food. “I’ll have a maid box the food, so take your time preparing,” and I left him alone to gather what was happening at least. 

Once the food is wrapped and put inside the car, Tristan soon follows. I sit in front while he sits alone at the back. I thought he’d calmly sit tight by doing so, but he seemed more anxious while we traveled closer to his house.

“You’ll be fine. Calm down,” I say.

We soon reach his abode, and I first notice that this place is horrifyingly dilapidated. At first glance, you’d think this is where beggars live! How did he live in such a place? This kind of place is where he returns to after every beating we give him. I clench my hands.

But this isn’t the time to think of such things. I have to see for myself what life Tristan’s been living.

I take the wrapped food and follow him to his house’s door. Tristan, aware of me, began shaking in front of me.

“P-Please leave,” he whispers.

“I won’t. You need someone right now,” I say and hand Tristan money. “It’s sudden, but play along.”

A hint of light seeps through the door, and soon, Tristan’s father shows up. His drunk expression quickly turns into anger, and were about to hit Tristan when I catch his fist.

“Y-YOU—!” His breath stinks of liquor. 

“Good evening, Sir. Sorry for the sudden visit,” I say with a smile. “I’m Dylan, Tristan’s client for tonight.”

“Dylan!” Tristan shouts my name and grabs my wrist. 

I shockingly look at him. It’s the first time Tristan raised his voice and hands at me! 

“HA!” Tristan’s father yanks his fist away. That shifts my attention to Tristan’s father. “Finally found someone cash rich to f*ck, huh? So, where is it?” He looks at me. “The money. Surely my son’s ass felt good. And I’m sure he told you how much he is for every c*m he takes. ”

I smile. “Tristan, the money.”

Tristan shakily hands the money to his father. His father is instantly blinded by how thick it is. I smile awkwardly in my head. Even I would be overwhelmed if I saw such an amount unannounced. I don’t even know how much I took from my savings; I said ‘F*ck it’ and grabbed a handful.

“With that amount, it should cover a week’s worth,” I grab Tristan’s waist. “Then, if you’ll excuse us.” I placed the food on their doorknob and pulled Tristan to the car, but was stopped before we could drive off.

“Hold on.”

F*ck, now what? The driver lowers the window, and I see him grinning evilly.

“This is only 1 round’s worth. You gotta pay more.”

F*cking greedy assh*le. So he wants to play? I’ll play with him.

“Eat that,” I point at the food. “And wait. The night is long, Mr. Abad. You’ll know if I enjoyed f*cking your son soon enough.”

I waste no time and tell the driver to go. I never looked back at Tristan’s father but took one last glance at a shed we passed by. And when we were storming off through the highway, I sighed loudly and covered my face.

“The food at home is already cold, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Young sir.”

Then I glance at Tristan, who’s still shell shock and is trembling at the back.

“Tristan, what do you want to eat?” I ask.

He looks at me and shakes his head. “N-Nothing.”

I take note of his response to me. He didn’t ignore me nor not answer me. So it’s relieving to know he’s aware of me even when I violated his personal space lately. Still, Tristan hasn’t eaten anything since he woke up, and now he’s in this bizarre situation. He’s got to have something he wants to eat.