Chapter 6

Dylan's POV

After taking a short, long break at the ice cream shop, we finally arrive home. The lights were still on, and two cars were parked on the road— my brother's and father's. News travels fast, it seems. I peek at Tristan, who's slightly nodding off at the back. I wanted to snort to wake him up but fake a cough instead. My action awoken him, and he sees we're back to where it all started.

Once we set foot in the living room, Father stands up and sternly looks at me.

"You're late," he says.

"We ate ice cream," I reply.

He says nothing, then averts his eyes to Tristan.

"My son is a handful, isn't he? Come, I'll walk you to your room," he gestures to Tristan.

At the same time, Tristan and I look at each other. His eyes hold confusion, to which I answer with a slight nod. 

"This will be your room for the duration of your stay and for your future visits, Tristan. It's sudden, but I hope it's to your liking," Father opens the bedroom door.

Tristan's room is beside mine— one knock away.

"I've already prepared your necessities, so don't hesitate to use them well," Father eyes me. "As for you, in my office," He says and storms off.

I comb my hair and follow Father. I didn't bother to look at Tristan, who was already in his room and looking around. 

"We've yet to confirm that he's in line with prostitution, so how did you know about it?" Father asks as soon as I take my seat.

He doesn't really sugarcoat what he says in front of me. 

"A source told me," I lie. How can I tell Father I knew about it because I came from the past? He'll say I broke my sanity and will most likely have me imprisoned in a mental institute since his pride is too high to accept that his son is a lunatic.

He eyes me. "How certain are you that your informant is guaranteed?"

I didn't answer.

"Where is that file?"

My eyes grow dim. "I threw it away."

We stare at each other. With each passing second, Father thinks I'll yield to his presence. Contrary to what I've seen in my past life, I am a dog. I feared Father's presence immensely before, but now, I can handle his intimidation.

But I know he's not the type to give up. I'll yield this' intimidation competition' and sway it to a different subject.

"What happened tonight, I'll take responsibility. / I leave Tristan to your hands."

I pause. What did he say? We spoke simultaneously; maybe that's why I'm hearing things.

"W-What?"

He turned his back on me. "You heard me. Now, get out."

Without question, I stand and leave his office. After taking a few breaths, I walk to Tristan's room, which isn't closed. But before I can knock, my brother nudges me from behind. I look at him and see him holding a mug— it was hot chocolate.

"I didn't drug it this time," he winks.

So that's why Tristan fell asleep earlier. "Assh*le," I whisper.

I take it from him and knock on the door.

"Tristan, it's Dylan. May I come in?"

"How polite," my brother teases.

I pay my brother no mind and wait for Tristan's answer, but there is none. He's back to his usual demeanor. Thankfully, there's a cabinet near the door where I can place the mug.

"I'll leave it here," I reach for the cabinet and gently place the mug. "My brother made it, so take a sip or two."

A few seconds pass, and still no response of any sort. I sigh and sit before the door.

"Where do I start?" I mumble to myself. 

I can't keep apologizing to him since it won't undo the damage I'd done, and I also can't act rashly than I already did. But I can't think of anything besides explaining how things escalated this way. 

Ah, f*ck it.

"What happened today... it's because I acted without thinking. It's fine if you think lowly of me, but my actions, it's done because of sincerity. I'm trying, and I'll try even more, to fix my mistakes and to give you back the life I deprived of you," a hand reaches out to the mug. Holy sh*t, that scared me. "E-Ehem. You must be tired, so I'll take my leave. Have a good night's sleep," I leave and rush towards my room.

A few minutes later, a knock on the door awakens my senses. It's my brother.

"What?" I ask

"You might want to check him. He should be out cold by now," he says behind the door.

Confused, I open my door and see my brother holding a first-aid kit.

"You drugged him again?" I ask, my brows creased. "You said you didn't! Are you really a doctor?!" I lash out.

He shoves the kit to my chest. "I'm trying to help you both here. A 'thank you' would be nice," he says, leaving me. I clutch the kit and go towards Tristan’s room. 

If he’s asleep, he won’t notice the door opening— I still knock. 

“Tristan? I’m coming in.”

It seems like the drug worked. I go inside and see him sleeping on the floor. My heart drops at the scene.