Flynn stormed toward the three officers, fury burning in his eyes, ready to strike. But before he could make a move, Dylan grabbed his arm, holding him back.
"You've got some nerve showing your faces here," Flynn snapped, his voice sharp with anger. "Wasn't it enough that you threw my aunt out and sent her to the hospital because of what you did?"
Baron froze, unable to meet Flynn's glare. When his eyes flicked toward Dylan, a cold wave of unease crossed his face. The moment he turned back to Flynn, he bowed deeply, followed by the two other officers.
"We're here to apologize," Baron said, voice low and strained. "We're truly sorry for what we did and how we acted."
Flynn didn't reply. His jaw was tight, his eyes filled with silent rage. Pulling his arm free from Dylan's grip, he walked straight past them and into the hospital room.
Inside, he saw Arnold talking with Mary and Lucas.
"What's going on here?" Flynn asked, still on edge.
"Flynn, I'm glad you're here," Lucas said. "This is Sir Arnold — the chief of police of those officers who forced your Aunt Mary out of her stall. They came here to apologize."
Arnold nodded respectfully. "Actually, we're not here just to apologize. I know my men caused you and your family a lot of trouble."
He reached into his briefcase and handed over a thick brown envelope. "Please, accept this."
Mary and Lucas gasped when they saw what was inside — stacks of cash, more than they had ever held in their lives.
"Oh my goodness," Mary whispered, her hands trembling. "This is... this is too much. I could pay all my hospital bills with this and still have more left."
Arnold smiled faintly. "About those bills — you don't have to worry about them anymore. We've already settled everything with the hospital. That money is for you to start over."
He continued, "As for your business, we've already found you a new location — closer to the marketplace and other establishments. It's a better spot, and you'll get a lot more customers there."
Mary shook her head quickly. "Oh, I don't think I can handle that on my own. And the rent must be expensive... I don't think I can—"
"There's no need to worry about rent," Arnold said gently. "It's already been arranged. You won't have to pay anything for a full year. And my three officers will work at your restaurant for the first three months — free of charge — to help you get back on your feet."
Mary's eyes widened in disbelief. "I... I don't know what to say. This is too much, sir. It was just a small accident — I don't think we deserve all this."
"It's perfectly fine, ma'am," Arnold assured her quickly, sneaking a nervous glance toward Dylan, who stood silently at the corner of the room, his gaze cold and unreadable. "Please, take it. It's the least we can do."
Lucas smiled, placing a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder. "Mary, looks like luck's finally turning your way. After everything that happened, you're getting more blessings than you could've imagined."
After Arnold finished explaining everything, he excused himself. Before leaving the room, he glanced briefly at Dylan and gave a slight nod, then finally stepped out. Flynn noticed it but didn't pay much attention.
Tony ran up to his mother and hugged her tightly. "Mama, can we go home now?" he asked softly.
"Yes, my dear. We'll head home soon," Mary replied, smiling as she brushed his hair gently.
Flynn and Dylan left the hospital first. On their way home, Flynn suddenly stopped Dylan as they passed by Mary's former eatery. "Wait, stop for a second."
Dylan pulled over, and Flynn noticed people hanging a large banner on the wall declaring, PROPERTY CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Beside it, the owner was crying, begging the officers not to shut the place down.
"Come on," Dylan said calmly. "Let's not get involved."
Flynn simply nodded, his face showing curiosity and surprise at everything happening around them.
Later that evening, Lucas arrived home after dropping Mary off. He was beaming, clearly relieved and overjoyed by how things had turned out. To celebrate, he came home carrying bags of food and bottles of beer.
"What's all this? Why so much food and alcohol?" Flynn asked.
"Come on, your Aunt Mary just got discharged from the hospital. We have every reason to celebrate!" Lucas laughed. "She even gave me some money to buy all this. So let's just enjoy and be thankful."
As they started eating, Lucas opened a bottle of beer, poured a glass, and handed it to Dylan. "Here, Dylan. Have a drink with your uncle."
Dylan smiled faintly, taking the glass. "Sure, uncle. Why not? There's no class tomorrow anyway."
After having a few drinks with Lucas, Dylan decided to spend the night at Flynn's place.
When he entered Flynn's room, he found him already lying in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.
Dylan quietly walked over and lay down beside him.
"Hey," he said softly. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world. What's on your mind?"
Flynn just sighed deeply, his gaze still glued to the ceiling, saying nothing.
"Hey... hey..." Dylan called again, lightly shaking Flynn's arm, but the other boy didn't react at all.
Seeing that Flynn still wasn't responding, a mischievous glint flashed in Dylan's eyes. He leaned closer, a sly smile tugging at his lips—clearly, he was up to something.
Slowly, Dylan's hand began to trail down Flynn's chest, his touch deliberate and teasing. But before it could go any further, Flynn caught his wrist in a swift, tense grip.
"What the hell are you doing?" Flynn snapped, his voice low but sharp with shock and irritation.
Dylan shifted to lie on his side, propping his head on one hand as he faced Flynn. "I've been sleeping here with you for a long time, and I've been with you almost all day and every hour, but I've never seen you jerk off." When Dylan said this, he tried to touch Flynn's junior again.
"What the Fu... Dylan!" Flynn shouted, instinctively shielding himself with both hands, his face flushed with a mix of shock and embarrassment. "Are you nuts? Why do you care if I jerk off or not?"
"Why? I'm just curious," Dylan said with a grin. "Come on, let's cum together."
He tried once again to grab Flynn's junior, but this time Flynn had already placed a pillow over it—extra protection, just in case.
"Dylan! You're such a pervert!" Flynn snapped.
"What? Don't you do this kind of thing with your guy friends?" Dylan asked innocently.
"Other than Nathan, I don't have any close guy friends—and that's definitely not something normal to do," Flynn shot back.
"What's not normal about it? There's no malice. My friends and I do that all the time," Dylan said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.
"Cut it out with your perverted excuses," Flynn muttered, glaring at him.
"Who's the pervert now, huh?" Dylan teased—and before Flynn could react, Dylan leaned in and tried to kiss his neck.
"Dyla—HAHAHA! S-stop it!" Flynn burst into uncontrollable laughter, squirming away. His neck was ridiculously ticklish, and he tried to stifle his voice, terrified his dad might hear them.
Flustered and embarrassed—his heart pounding from both surprise and irritation—Flynn reacted on impulse and punched Dylan square in the face.
Dylan winced, clutching his lower lip. A thin line of blood appeared where the punch had landed.
"That was harsh," Dylan muttered, pressing a finger against his lip.
"That's what you get, you pervert," Flynn said, half annoyed, half laughing.
Watching Dylan cradle his lip, a pang of guilt tugged at Flynn. With a quiet sigh, he grabbed some cotton to clean the wound.
"What, feeling guilty now?" Dylan teased, his voice muffled.
"Do you want me to clean it or just let it get infected?" Flynn shot back.
Dylan straightened up and leaned closer, closing his eyes as Flynn dabbed gently at the cut. Every few seconds, Dylan would peek at him through half-lidded eyes.
Even though Flynn looked irritated, Dylan couldn't deny how handsome he was up close—his focused expression only made his heart race faster.
"You know," Dylan said, smirking, "it might heal faster if you kissed it better."
Flynn pressed the cotton harder against his lip, making Dylan flinch.
"Ow! Easy!" Dylan hissed, wincing.
"Whatever. Deal with it yourself," Flynn muttered, tossing the cotton aside before lying back down on the bed.
Dylan cleaned up the used cotton and the small mess on the table before settling down beside Flynn.
"Be honest," Dylan said, glancing at him. "Why were you so quiet earlier? You wouldn't even look at me."
Flynn let out a deep sigh before finally speaking.
"I know you're hiding something."