Dylan

Dylan didn't leave his room for several days in a row, not letting anyone in.

Abilka approached him and began to cuddle, butting her head against his legs and purring. Dylan stroked her head and then picked up his spoon again, continuing to eat the tartare. He chewed slowly, thinking about many things. His parents weren't even worried about him or asking why their son hadn't left his room or eaten for days. They were all up to their ears in work. But that wasn't an excuse. He could text his son during a short break and ask how he was. That only happened in elementary school.

Dylan set the plate of half-eaten tartare aside, hugging his knees. His thoughts filled him with melancholy once again, and his heart sank with resentment. His shoulders trembled slightly, and the brunette sniffled, burying his nose in his knees. He felt like a little child again, the one he despised for his weaknesses. "Why are you whining again? You're used to not being needed by your parents," Dylan thought to himself, causing him to tremble even more. He felt sad that he was weak, even though he had long ago gotten used to the fact that his parents were nothing but a name. He felt lonely.