Dylan O'Brien Imagines

The One That Got Away

It had been awhile since you and Dylan had broken up, but nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again. Anytime was too soon.

Okay that was a little dramatic, but you weren’t prepared to see him.

And someone definitely could have prepared you.

That someone should have been Holland.

It was her party after all.

"Y/N! I’m so glad you came!" Holland obnoxiously greets you, clearly over her drink limit.

"Hey Holland," you smile back.

You try to say more, but she was already whisked away by some of the other party goers.

You are distracted for awhile from the initial seeing-your-ex-boyfriend shock by your other friends at the party. But eventually you do run into him. You decide to be adult about the situation and you make your way over to him.

"Hey Dylan." Instantly you regretting your decision. He broke up with you. He should be the one trying to make the awkward, guilty small talk. Not you.

"Oh, hey Y/N," he says shyly.

"How are you?" you ask politely.

"I’ve..um..been better."

"Good," you reply harshly, abandoning your previous attempt at being polite, and surprising both yourself and him.

Neither one of you respond but then he just starts laughing. The absurdity of the whole situation causes you to join in and eventually you’re both howling with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," you say once you catch your breath.

"No, it’s my fault," he wipes the tears from eyes, "I was so stupid for breaking up with you."

"Yeah I know," you joke, mockingly tossing your hair back.

He smiles, “Really. I regret it. We could have worked things out. I know we could have. I was just-“

"Making excuses," you finish.

"Yeah," nodding his head, "Exactly."

"It’s partly my fault. I knew what you were doing, and I let you. I could have fought you harder about it. Called you out on it. But I let you."

He releases a deep breath, “Yeah well, I’m still saying it’s my fault. And I still regret breaking up.”

An awkward pause, “I’m seeing someone.”

Surprise, mixed with sadness, he responds, “Then you’ll be the one that got away.”

"I might be. You might be too."

"Well," he says in a forced cheery, clear-the-awkwardness way, "If that ever fails, or you want all thisback, you know where to call.”

You laugh, “Make sure you don’t change that number then,” and you walk away.