I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Hibernation
Hibernation
That was what it felt like.
Staying tucked away in the Decody home, surrounded by . . .
"Artful Artifacts. Will Decody, speaking . . ."
. . . what most people probably considered boring everyday life.
But what Dylan Massett knew to be . . .
". . . tea, Dylan?"
"Yeah, sure. Thanks."
. . . a little piece of Heaven on earth.
Staying near Emma's general space as much as he could.
And away from everybody else he knew.
Awaiting the transition, preparing for the change from Dylan Massett, Bastard Unloved Incest Son to Dylan Massett, Person.
He did go out, of course.
Wrapping up loose ends with the farm.
"Hey, I'm getting out of game, going to Seattle. So no more deliveries to the Bates Motel, okay?"
"Sure thing, man. Good luck and all."
Helpfully running the necessary errands.
"Hello. Prescriptions for Emma Decody, please."
"Yes, sir. It'll be just a few minutes."
And of course . . .
"I just came to get some of my stuff."
"Okay. Have fun leaving me."
Ugh, it's my life, Nor-
Nope, nope. Don't get sucked in, don't sucked in.
Emma, Emma, Emma.
But whatever did he did, whatever frustrations he faced, he always got to go home.
To her.
To Emma.
The first place he had ever truly belonged.
Been wanted.
Accepted.
Just for him.
In a place relatively free . . .
"Emma, did you eat the rest of the fruitcake?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry, Dad."
"Oh well. Maybe the store has some more."
. . . of strife.
And replaced with . . .
"You actually like fruitcake?"
"Yeah, Dylan. Don't you?"
"No. It's gross."
"Well then, come here and maybe I can change your mind."
Oh. Mmm, okay. You win. Fruitcake is good.
. . . love and warmth.
And he was happy there.
Thanks to WordWeaver81 and Lana Brown for your gracious reviews!
Merry Christmas if you celebrate!