Flynn woke up to the sound of movement in the room. When he sat up, he saw Dylan scrambling around, clearly in a rush as he got dressed.
"Where are you going?" Flynn asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
"Brent called me. He said there's an emergency at the company, so he has to fly back to Singapore. I'm just taking him to the airport," Dylan replied.
"Do you really have to be the one to drive him?"
Dylan sighed, tugging his jacket into place. "Brent's patience is pretty low—especially on the road," Dylan said. "He hates slow drivers and getting stuck in traffic. He always wants me to drive because he knows I can get him there on time"
Flynn simply nodded in agreement. He knew how fast Dylan drove his sports car—and how skilled he was behind the wheel—so he couldn't really blame Brent for preferring Dylan as his driver.
After getting dressed, Dylan said goodbye. "I bought you some food. It's in the fridge—just microwave it later."
Flynn nodded again and was about to lie back down when Dylan suddenly leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"I'm heading out," Dylan said, then left.
Flynn only smirked and shook his head before settling back into the warmth of the bed.
---
Brent instinctively gripped the handle inside the car every time Dylan sped up his car, especially whenever he swerved to avoid another vehicle or overtook one. Despite his nerves, Brent trusted Dylan completely. Ever since they were kids, Dylan had always been obsessed with cars, and he was formally trained in car racing.
When the car finally stopped, Brent felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, breathing heavily as he tried to recover. He looked outside and realized they were already at the airport. Checking his watch, he saw that only fifteen minutes had passed.
"Good thing your driving skills haven't rusted, even with how much you've changed," Brent remarked.
"And who told you I've changed?" Dylan shot back. "Just because my routine changed doesn't mean I did."
"Okay, okay. You're way too defensive."
"I'm not defensive. You're just the one talking too much."
"Fine. But I'm telling you—whatever decisions you make for your future, think them through carefully."
"I'm not a kid anymore who needs you watching my every move. I can think and decide for myself."
"I'm only saying this because I'm concerned about you."
"I know. But the longer this goes on, the more you're starting to sound like my father."
Brent let out a sigh, no longer wanting to argue with Dylan. "Fine. I'll let it go for now, but don't expect me not to step in if something happens in the future."
"Nothing's going to happen," Dylan replied casually, his hands still resting on the steering wheel of his car. "Aren't you getting out? I thought you were in a hurry."
"You seem way too excited about me leaving," Brent said as he adjusted his necktie. "It's still pretty early anyway, thanks to how fast you drive. Oh, by the way, I sent two million to your bank account."
"I don't need your money."
"Too late. I sent it last night. Use it as your allowance—since you refuse to accept money from your father," Brent said before stepping out of the car as the people sent to fetch him arrived. "I'm leaving."
As soon as Brent entered the airport, Dylan started the engine and drove away.
---
While Flynn was busy playing online games on Dylan's computer, he was startled when someone suddenly took off his headset and kissed his cheek. He hadn't noticed that Dylan had already arrived.
"You're back already," Flynn said.
"I just got here," Dylan replied. "Looks like you're really into that game."
"I'm just killing time. There's nothing else to do in your apartment," Flynn answered. He was about to put his headphones back on when Dylan suddenly took them from him and pulled him toward the living room.
"Hey, I'm not done yet. Where are you taking me now?"
"You can play later," Dylan said, still holding Flynn's hand.
When they reached the living room, Dylan immediately made Flynn sit down on the couch.
"What are you planning now?" Flynn asked.
"Relax. I'm not planning anything. Just wait there," Dylan said, grabbing a large valet box and placing it on the table in front of Flynn.
"What's this?" Flynn asked.
"Open it." Dylan replied.
Flynn slowly opened the box. Inside were several accessories—a watch, bracelets, a necklace, rings, a comb, and a heart-shaped lapel pin split down the middle. Each item had a matching pair with almost identical design.
"W-what are these for?" Flynn asked hesitantly.
"For who else? For the two of us," Dylan replied, taking one of the watches and fastening it around Flynn's wrist.
At a glance, Flynn could tell the accessories were expensive—especially since they all looked customized. As he admired the watch, he noticed something engraved on the side. When he brought it closer, he saw his own name carved into it. Flynn immediately picked up the other watch and checked it. Engraved on that one was Dylan's name.
That was when it finally sank in—every piece inside the box was a matching set, carefully chosen as couple items.
Flynn didn't know whether to laugh at Dylan's childishness. He knew exactly where this was coming from—the bracelet Dylan had seen before, the one from his ex. Dylan hated losing, and Flynn knew he had gone this far because of that.
"These look expensive. Did your father give you money?" Flynn asked.
"I don't accept anything from my father," Dylan replied. "The money I used came from Brent."
"From Brent?"
"Yeah. He's been giving me money even back then, even though I don't ask."
"How much did he give you?"
"Two million."
"Two million? And you spent it all on this?" Flynn asked in shock.
"Not all of it. There's still some left," Dylan said, pretending to calculate. "I think… around twenty thousand."
"Twenty thousand? That's all that's left from two million? Dylan, we barely even have allowance, and you spent that much on something like this?"
"Something like this?" Dylan said, picking up one of the rings and slipping it onto Flynn's finger. "Can you really blame me for buying these? From now on, I don't want to see you wearing or holding the bracelet your ex gave you. From now on, you'll wear what I bought for us."
"Dylan, don't you think this is too much? You didn't have to go this far just because of a bracelet from my ex."
"Oh?" Dylan said casually. "Then you should've told me earlier. What about the other surprise I prepared for you then?"
"Wait… there's more?" Flynn asked.
Dylan stood up and paced back and forth in front of him, clearly restless.
"Dylan, what else did you buy?"
Without answering, Dylan suddenly stopped, let out a deep sigh, and grabbed Flynn's hand, pulling him out of the apartment.
When they reached the elevator, Dylan immediately pressed the parking floor. Flynn kept asking where they were going, but Dylan stayed quiet.
"Where are we going?" Flynn insisted.
"Just follow me," Dylan replied.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Dylan pulled Flynn toward the parking area. Flynn couldn't hold back anymore.
"Dylan, seriously—where are we going?"
Dylan sighed and pointed to something across the parking lot. When Flynn looked, he saw a car that looked almost identical to Dylan's. At first, he thought it was Dylan's car—until he noticed Dylan's actual car parked right beside it.
But what made Flynn freeze was the license plate. The one on Dylan's car read DM, while the other bore FAL—an unmistakable abbreviation of their names.
"D-don't tell me…" Flynn stammered, pointing at the vehicle.
Dylan nodded in confirmation.
"You really went this far?" Flynn whispered.
"You can ask later. Go to the car first," Dylan said, pulling him closer. He opened the driver's door and guided Flynn inside.
As soon as Flynn sat down, he slowly placed his hands on the steering wheel, running his fingers over it.
"Dylan… don't tell me you bought this for me."
"Yes. It's really for your. The registration and all the documents are under your name. It's completely yours."
"But I don't even know how to drive."
"That's easy," Dylan said with a grin. "What's the point of having a handsome husband who's great at driving if I can't teach you?"
"Shut up. You're not my husband," Flynn said, then hesitated.
"B-but how could you afford something this expensive? Where did you get that kind of money?"
Dylan fell silent before finally speaking.
"It came from my mom's savings—the money she left me before she died."
Flynn's eyes widened, his knees weakening at the revelation.
"Are you out of your mind, Dylan? You spent your mother's money—money meant for your future—on this?"
"Why not?" Dylan replied calmly.
"I'm already in my future. And you are my future. I get to decide where my money goes."
Flynn could only clutch his head, resting it against the steering wheel.
"Dylan, this was your mother's money. You didn't have to spend this much just to outdo what my ex gave me. You didn't need to go this far."
"But tell me," Dylan said softly. "You liked it, didn't you?"
Flynn didn't know how to answer. As he looked around the car, his hands were still on the steering wheel, he couldn't deny it—he did like it. In all his life, this was the first time he had ever sat in the driver's seat, the first time he had ever imagined owning a car of his own.
Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded.
Dylan stepped closer, leaning in—one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other resting against the driver's seat. Their faces were only inches apart.
"I know I was aggressive buying all of this," Dylan said quietly. "And I know you're still unsure. But don't worry, Flynn. I'm not asking for anything in return for everything I give you. I just want you to know that whatever I have, I want you to have too. What's mine is yours."
"Do you think it's too much?" Flynn asked.
"No. This is just the beginning," Dylan replied.
"Just let me spoil you—just like how you let me take care of you and love you. I'm happy doing things for you, giving things to you. So please… just let me."
As Dylan finished speaking, he slowly lowered the driver's seat, gently easing Flynn back. Once Flynn was lying down, Dylan leaned in and softly pressed his lips against Flynn's.
Flynn could feel the sincerity in Dylan's words, in every action.
Unable to resist any longer, Flynn gave in to the moment. Neither of them cared that they were in the parking lot. Dylan climbed into the car and closed the door, continuing what they had started. The car rocked gently in the quiet parking area—holding a moment meant only for the two of them.
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[Author's Note
Thank you so much to everyone who continues to support this story. This is my very first book, and although it was initially rejected by Webnovel, I am truly grateful to all the readers who stayed and made it all the way to the latest chapters.
Your support means more to me than you know, and I sincerely hope you'll continue to accompany me on this journey. If you have time, please consider leaving a review—your thoughts and reactions would really help and inspire me to improve and keep writing.
Once again, thank you to all of you for reading and supporting this story.
Special thanks to Tsuru_NoYo_Ni_Yuga for consistently giving Power Stones and patiently waiting for every update. Your support truly motivates me.