Information



Dylan
Legacy Name: Dylan


The Arid Montre
Owner: Aquarius

Age: 11 years, 9 months, 5 days

Born: June 23rd, 2012

Adopted: 11 years, 9 months, 5 days ago

Adopted: June 23rd, 2012

Statistics


  • Level: 81
     
  • Strength: 202
     
  • Defense: 202
     
  • Speed: 200
     
  • Health: 201
     
  • HP: 188/201
     
  • Intelligence: 261
     
  • Books Read: 256
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Certified Mad Scientist


And in that moment
it was no longer about us - it was about you
Story
It was another gloomy, overcast day outside with the light, gray clouds settling in over Brooklyn while a sparse drizzle of rain barely satisfied what little, thirsty grass there was that hadn't been paved over with concrete in the name of a new business. The lack of sunshine pouring in from the small windows was making Dylan sleepy and what with the quiet, repetitive hum of the florescent lighting, it was making it even more difficult to stay awake. He had been in the room for a couple of hours now, maybe two or even three, though the number of people had thinned out to less than ten with Dylan being one of the last to go. He re-settled himself in his chair, trying to stretch out his long legs to get them into a more comfortable position but it wasn't happening; his arthritis was acting up...again.
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Grumbling to himself, Dylan pulled his flip phone out of his pocket, opening up with a quick flick as the cheap plastic device made a loud snapping sound and a small, hairline crack appeared on the left side of his phone. It seemed he had used a little too much strength for such a cheap phone. It was an older cell phone, one of the ones that had gone out of style ages ago and that Dylan wasn't even sure they made parts for anymore but it was the only one he could afford that didn't come with one of those damned data plans, even if it was a piece of crap. And as long as it made calls, sent short texts and could tell time, that was good enough for someone as technologically inept as himself. Furrowing his eyebrows at the 6:04 PM reading, Dylan shoved the phone back into his pocket and rested his head against the cold, hard plastic of the back of the chair, already dreading what Danielle would say when he arrived a little too late with almost no explanation. Dylan rolled his head to the side, eyeing the large, white door they had taken the participants into one at a time as if he were trying to will it to open for him when suddenly, it did. Standing in the doorway was the same man that had been taking in people all afternoon, dressed in a white lab coat with a mess of dark brown colored hair and thin glasses that were only kept on his hooked nose with a small, silver chain that wrapped around his head. With a clipboard in his hand, he adjusted the tiny spectacles carefully and opened his mouth to read the next name as Dylan rose from his chair, ready to go.

''Jean Glenn.''

Dylan fell back into his chair and groaned, a few of the remaining participants shooting him dirty looks as the man whom he had just called, Jean, disappeared behind the door with the hooked nose man, closing it behind him. Minutes slipped right through Dylan's fingers as he waited impatiently for the door to open again, the feeling of anxiousness rising in his stomach with every minute that passed. If he didn't get finished with this soon, he would just have to pick Kamden up tomorrow and be short with him one day this week; the thought killed him. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to focus on only positive thoughts and his son's sweet smile. Dylan was so lost in his own thoughts of Kamden's face, Danielle's nagging and the bills that were piling up on the table at home that he hadn't even heard the door open this time, nor did he hear his name the first time it was called.

''Dylan Walker.''

His head jerked up at hearing his name, rising from his chair while the interviewer looked at him up and down with disgust, motioning for Dylan to follow him into the examination room. He did as he was told, slowly limping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him before following the man into an open room with nothing more inside than a small table, two chairs and the whitest walls he had ever seen. Dylan could feel the examiner's eyes on his limp, his pencil moving quickly across the page before he pointed at a seat and urged Dylan to sit. Cautiously, Dylan took a seat in the chair farthest away from him as the interviewer took a seat in the other, facing him with the paper loaded clipboard in hand and a frown on his face.

''Dylan Walker?'' The man questioned, his tone almost bored in nature.''Yes...sir.'' Dylan answered quickly.
''You have expressed to us that you suffer from chronic pain, is that correct?''
''Yes sir.''
''And that previous medications you have taken have not been effective against this chronic pain?''
''That is correct.'' Dylan responded, trying to keep his focus away from the huge mole on the side of the interviewer's nostril.
''I see.'' He responded vaguely, writing some information down onto his clipboard before he continued with what felt like a police interrogation. ''Do you require physical therapy for this chronic condition?''
''Yes.'' Dylan lied straight through his teeth, knowing exactly what kind of answers they were expecting. ''I am in physical therapy and although it has improved my ability to move, it is a very slow progression and the doctors feel that I should have reached my fullest capability now. I would like to test for drugs to improve the lives of those suffering with chronic pain, such as myself.'''
The man seemed slightly stunned by Dylan's detailed answer, jotting down a few short notes very quickly before flipping over to his next page of notes and Dylan's next few test questions.'
''Are you a smoker?'''
''No sir.'''
''Would you be prepared to take a drug test, a physical and do blood work if chosen for this study?''
'''Yes sir.'''
''And are you prepared to participate in all phases of the drug trial?'' He read from his sheet.'
''Yes sir.'''
''Thank you very much, Mr. Walker. I will be back in just one moment.'''
'
He excused himself and exited the room, leaving Dylan alone with nothing more than the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and a piece of paper that he had briefly instructed him to read over, warning him about the 'effects' of the study, should he get the opportunity to participate. Carefully, Dylan began to read through it just so that he could be informed on what the drug would be doing and it's various side effects, his concentration slowly beginning to fade about mid-page. He could feel the intense, aching pain creeping through the muscles in his right leg, his bones creaking painfully as he stretched it out underneath the table to get blood flow to the area. It worsened under the feeling of movement, causing Dylan to clench his hands into tightly closed fists and breathe deeply through his nose and mouth to keep from screaming aloud. The young man desperately ripped his pant leg up and looked at the area to see if there was any noticeable swelling though it was hard to tell through all of the scarring. All across his right leg, mostly centered in the area where his knee was, Dylan saw nothing but memories that he would just like to forget. The pinkish, peach colored scars looked out of place against Dylan's pale white skin, the long, jagged marks indented inward, textured with deep, darkened lines where it had fused back together through stitches. It was clearly old scarring, no signs of blood or redness around the area, though to Dylan, who was still suffering through the radiating pain, it felt like it happened just yesterday. The pain intensified further, forcing an audible whimper out of Dylan until, suddenly, he could feel it beginning to lessen, the pain decreasing to nothing more than a dull ache as life continued on normally as if it had never happened at all. It was common for Dylan to have this sort of pain, sometimes less painful, sometimes more, though each time it had happened, Dylan couldn't explain why or what triggered it - it just happened and to Dylan, that was typical. Although it was something he knew he should take note of, Dylan stopped doing that ages ago, knowing damn good and well that he wasn't going to see a real doctor any time soon with the small pay he was getting from all of the studies.

By the time the doctor re-entered the room, he had a broad, kinder smile on his face, a good indicator for Dylan that he had passed their ''strict test'' and now could begin Phase I of the trial, much to their delight. More guinea pigs, more profits, less room to sue.

''Okay Mr. Walker. We would like to go ahead and give you a run-down of what you will need to do while on this medication, if you are still interested, of course?'' He asked as if Dylan had any other choices left.
''Of course.''

For a good ten to twenty minutes, he droned on about what he could and couldn't do on the medication, though most of it was pretty typical stuff. Don't consume alcohol or illegal drugs at the same time as taking this medication. Don't operate heavy machinery or lift heavy loads alone - just all the same fine print that was on every medicine bottle, though most didn't bother to read it.

''In eight weeks, we'll have you back here and you can begin your second phase. Sound good?''
Dylan bit his lip. ''What about the pay?''
His smile slowly disappeared, his face muscles pulling back into the same, displeased frown that Dylan had met him with. ''Oh yes, that will come once all the phases are over.'' Clearly, he had been asked this question before.
''And how long will that be?''
''It will take 6 months for us to complete our evaluation of you and the medication you are taking.''
Dylan cursed under his breath, clearly not too happy with the answer. Six months was too far away; he needed rent money now but there were only so many options available. If anything, he'd just take an extra fine tacked onto his rent. ''Awesome.''

Stepping out of the facility was like taking his first steps into New York and back into real life. Back to the daily grind of everyday where there was no stopping to smell the roses or going out to enjoy New York's lively nightlife, drinking himself silly with friends - that part of his life was over. Now, he only had one thing he needed to focus on and if he didn't catch the next subway to Upper Manhattan, Dylan would be without him until tomorrow afternoon. He checked his cell phone one more time, cringing at the time before making the mad dash in the direction of the subway station where a small crowd of people were already filing in. It was something had gotten used to, having lived here most of his life but especially when he was in a hurry, Dylan had little patience for it. Squishing himself in between an overweight woman, who was too busy shoving a hot dog into her mouth to notice and a business man with a large nose stuffed into his newspaper, Dylan was able to battle his way up to the front of the line where a horrific sight was waiting. People were crammed from elbow to toe into the small train and there didn't seem to be a bit of room left. Dylan turned around to look at the crowd, trying to find one of the more friendly looking people to see if they knew what was happening.

''Seems busier today.'' Dylan muttered to a nearby woman who looked up briefly from her iPhone in a poor attempt to muster up a reply.
''Yeah, the other one near here is closed, some sort of maintenance or something. They sent all of the passengers here.'' She said, her eyes trailing back to her phone.
''Any idea when the next one is out of here?'' Dylan asked as the woman responded with an annoyed groan.
''Do I look like I work here?'' She hissed through bright red lips.

Clearly, she wasn't going to be any help but knowing New York as well as he did, he assumed he already knew the answer to his question so Dylan would have to find another way to Manhattan, or at least another subway that was still taking passengers. Pushing through all of the people again, several of which gave Dylan a good shove for his troubles, he made it out of the subway station and was back up to the city streets which gave him no direction on what to do next. There were always taxis available, though, during this time, most were already being hailed by another pedestrian and even if they weren't, there was no way that he could afford it; out of the question. He could always walk as well though by the time he had gotten through all of the traffic jammed intersections and battled his way through the tourist crammed sidewalks, he would still most likely be lost and an hour would have already slipped by so there was another option gone. A few giggling girls passed Dylan, the blonde one stopping to wave at him with a sweet, stupid smile on her face before catching up with her friends who had disappeared onto the monstrous bus parked alongside the edge of the walkway....wait! That was it! Dylan turned on his heel and ran towards the twelve ton machine, sticking his hand between the sliding doors before it could close, much to the dismay of the driver who quickly opened it and apologized profusely. Dylan just waved his hand and apologized himself, slipping onto the overcrowded bus and into one of the empty spots in between a rather large woman and a man who looked as if he could be a murderer, dark circles under his eyes and closed stained with something similar to blood (or was that paint?).

The ride was uncomfortable, bumpy and most of all, smelly, what with all of the hot, tightly packed bodies crammed into the uncomfortable area like sardines but Dylan didn't care; he was used to this kind of thing and just desperate to see his son again. It only took about eight to ten short stops before Dylan's eye caught a subway sign that he recognized and he was able to jump off just in time to grab a subway ride to Manhattan. It was much more quiet than the other rides he had taken, now that the nightly rush was over and everyone was either where they wanted to be or home with their families so Dylan, exhausted from running around since five o'clock that morning, caught a few Zzz's until he was awoken by a voice pouring over the loud speakers.

''Upper Manhattan. I repeat, we are now arriving at Upper Manhattan.'' He droned on so quietly that it was like a buzzing in Dylan's ear. Sleepily, he stumbled off of the train, up the steps and into a part of New York that Dylan saw very little of.

The nice parts of Manhattan were like a dream for Dylan, one that was always just out of reach for him and a better life for his son. It was a nice area, where the grass was cut to perfection and the people walking down the streets were not carrying knives or guns but Louis Vuitton handbags and arms full of organic groceries in their reusable cloth sacks. The streets were illuminated by hundreds of bright, towering streetlights that made the sidewalks look like red carpets and the people, in their nice button-up coats and freshly pressed clothes, look like celebrities strutting their way down a catwalk. It was hard to imagine that anyone could afford to live in such a prestigious place in such a hard economic time and Dylan, feeling particularly out of place amongst the grandeur of it all, decided he would take the back way to Danielle's condo. Through a few lightly lit alleys, past the hustling and bustling clubs that lined the streets and around the parking lot that was so expensive that it had to be gated, Dylan approached the front of Danielle's building, where a handsome, well dressed man was waiting by the door.

''Hello Dylan.'' The man greeted, opening up the large dark oak door for him with a smile. ''You're late.''
''I know, Simon.'' Dylan groaned. ''I know.''

The foyer of the building was just as beautiful as the outside had portrayed it to be. Inside, there were so many things to look and admire that one might not know where to look first. There was a charming chandelier hanging proudly from the ceiling, each of the fine, dangling crystal pieces sparkling like diamonds against the bright, twinkling lights. To the right of the chandelier and the left of the elevator was a sprawling dark stained welcoming desk with a rather prissy looking man, his eyes glued to a sheet of paper, standing behind it. He didn't even look up at Dylan, nor did he welcome him to the building though he did make a note to clear his throat as if to hide a scoff, when Dylan passed him to get to the elevator. Inside of the well cared for machine, there was a deep red, plush carpet and intricate paneling on the walls that just screamed luxury, along with a number of buttons that Dylan knew all too well. He tapped the number 32 quickly, pressing the close button on the elevator so he wouldn't have to share the uncomfortable ride with any of Danielle's neighbors and began the slow ride up to the 32nd floor where an angry Kamden and displeased Danielle were already waiting for him, with both of their cell phones drawn and their eyes carefully monitoring the time.

''Dylan. You're late.'' Danielle hissed, only glancing up from her phone for a moment to criticize him before her attention was focused on the device. ''You were supposed to be here at 6 PM - it is now...8:22 PM. Can you not tell time?'' Her accent got on his last nerve even to this day.
''I know how to tell time Danielle but what I don't know...'' Dylan retorted, snatching the new iPhone 5 from his son. ''is why our son has an iPhone 5. He's a child. He doesn't need one of these.''
''DAD!'' The dirty haired blonde boy screeched as he threw himself at his father, trying to wrestle the phone out of his hands. ''THAT'S MINE! PAUL GAVE IT TO ME!''
''Paul?'' Dylan blinked, letting the name sink in. ''Oh, you mean that pri-...guy you were dating.''
''AM dating, thank you very much.'' Danielle added in, pulling Kamden off of Dylan's leg by the back of his shirt. ''Sit still.''
Kamden stepped away with a frown, crossing his tiny little arms and holding his breath through one of his typical temper tantrums. ''Come on now Kamden, don't be like that.'' Dylan coaxed, getting down on his level despite the pain in his bent leg. ''I'll give you back your phone as long as you won't be on it all week, okay?''
''Yeah yeah.'' The boy responded, rolling his eyes with his hand extended. Dylan plopped the phone back into his hand with a sigh, ruffled up his hair and stood up. ''Go ahead and go get your things and we can go.''
''Ugh...'' Kamden didn't bother trying to hide his disappointment, going back into the large, gleaming condo, leaving Dylan and Danielle standing in the hallway with one another.
''Yeah yeah? I don't remember teaching him that.''
''Whatever Dylan.'' She responded, tucking one of her long blonde hairs behind her ears. ''My son can talk to you whatever way he wants.''
Dylan could feel his blood boil every time she said that. ''Our son'' He corrected her. ''Needs to learn respect for everyone. He can't just demand things from people like that.''
''Hurry up Dad! Let's go!'' Kamden reappeared with a bag in tow, tugging at Dylan's pants. ''I have to get home before 9:30 or my friends will start without me!''
''Start what?'' Dylan asked with a smile.
''A campaign? Call of Duty: Ghosts?'' Kamden answered though Dylan still seemed confused, frustrating the little boy even further. ''Xbox, Dad.''Dylan could feel the temper tantrum already starting to rise before he even opened his mouth, the pained on his face telling the youngster everything he needed to know. ''I...haven't quite....gotten you one of those...yet!'' Dylan added in as the child's face fell.
''WHAT? ARE YOU SERIOUS?'' The boy opened his mouth and began to wail at the top of his lungs, while Danielle simply tapped away on her phone as if it were nothing. Dylan tried to reason with his son over the ear blasting shrieks that were echoing down the hallways as a few neighbors peeked their heads out the door to see what all the noise was but there was no silencing him.
''Come on kiddo, it won't be that bad! I'll...I'll...order you a pizza tonight.''
''I don't want pizza!!'' He screamed, slamming his petite little hands against the wall closest to Danielle.
''I...come on Kamden...come on...it'll be okay.'' He tried to comfort him, shooting a pleading glance at Danielle who was still stuck to her phone. ''A little help here please?''
''Kamden, Paul will buy you a new game when you get home, okay?'' She promised, not even looking up from her phone.
And just like that, the crying stopped and Kamden was back to his perfect, smiling self as if nothing had ever happened. A good act by a very bad child.

Dylan said goodbye to Danielle as quickly as he could, grabbed Kamden's hand and together, the two made their way down the elevator and back onto the subway. From the subway, they took the bus and from the bus, they walked from the nicest areas of New York to the slums, the scenary around them going from better to bad in a matter of minutes. It wasn't much further when they arrived at a poorly cared for area where filthy homeless people begging and threatening gangbangers of all colors lined the sidewalks and hid in the shadows of the unwatched alleys. Dylan could feel his cheeks flush pink with embarrassment, his heart weighed down with heavy guilt over the kind of neighborhood that he had to bring his son home to every other week. It was filthy, dirty and most of all, dangerous and yet, this is all that he had to give him and Dylan hated it. He held his son's hand tighter in his own, quickening his pace to a fast walk until the two were inside the small apartment building as the putrid smell of dirt and mold hit them in the face. Kamden coughed, as he always did when he stepped in but Dylan was used to it, pulling him towards the dark green, 1980s carpeted stairs and up each step until they had finally reached the 4th floor, albeit out of breath. He already knew what awaited him once he got inside: a dirty, food stained kitchen with dishes stacked sky high in the sink, a living room with clothes littering the floor, a stained carpet that he couldn't get quite clean and a small, one bedroom apartment that was barely enough for him, much less a child. It was what he always came home to but at least the one room that mattered, the only bedroom in the house, was completely spotless and ready for Kamden, if nothing else. Shoving the key into the hole, Dylan cracked open the door and what he saw inside nearly blew him away.

The house was no longer in the condition that Dylan had left it in earlier that morning and in fact, it was hardly recognizable at first. The kitchen was completely spotless, not a single dirty dish left in the sink or on the counter tops, nor were there any stubborn, caked on food stains splattered on the stove or microwave. All of the leftovers had been put away where they belonged and even the small bar area of the kitchen looked perfect, as if it were brand new and he had just moved in. The carpet appeared to have been scrubbed down from edge to edge, the dark, dingy brown stains now gone and the piles of clothes picked up off of the floor. From room to room, the house looked fantastic and all Dylan could do was stare at it, his mouth hanging open in amazement and awe while Kamden just blinked.

''Dad. Dad. DAD!'' Dylan looked down at him. ''You're being weird.'' He pulled his hand away from Dylan's and disappeared into his bedroom, dragging his tote bag behind him while Dylan remained standing in the same spot. There was nothing missed in the home, not a spider web or speck of dirt - it was all beautiful, something that he would be proud to bring his son home to.

'How...'' He asked aloud breathlessly. And as if God had heard his question, Dylan's eyes trailed to the figure laying on the futon, covered up with a pile of freshly washed laundry. Amongst the piles of shirts, jeans and children's clothes was a dark haired man with unruly hair and a once white chef's jacket that was now covered in numerous food and filth stains, sleeping peacefully like a god send. It was clear by his uniform that he had been at work sometime during the day, though Dylan wasn't quite sure how many hours he had put in and yet, he had still come home to clean the entire apartment single handedly, a feat that Dylan couldn't manage even on his best days. He wanted to thank Jason, so much so that tears were forming in his eyes at seeing someone care so much about him and Kamden but he held them in, running his fingers through Jason's chocolate locks with a softened, sweet smile on his face. There was no stress or frustration or even worries - there was just him, Jason and Kamden: a family. Without a second thought, Dylan kneeled down beside the futon and crawled underneath the pile of clothes with Jason, pushing them around until he was comfortable and could wrap Jason's limp, warm arms around his body. He could feel his breathing stagger for a moment and a deep inhale come from behind him, the dark haired brunette nuzzling into Dylan's neck with a smile.

''Hey...when...when did you get here?'' He grumbled sleepily, his voice muffled by Dylan's neck.
''Don't worry about it. Just get some sleep.''
Jason nodded softly. ''W...wait...i...is Kamden here?''
''Yeah, he's here. He's uh...playing games and about to get to bed himself.''
''Good...'' Jason whispered. ''Hey Dylan?''
''Yeah, Jason?''
''I love you.''

The words were so innocent and simple, something he had never thought that he would hear again after he had divorced Danielle but this time, he felt something more than he did before. He felt as if...these words had meaning, like they solidified that this was what love was supposed to be all along. This is what Kamden needed, not all of the fighting, screaming turbulence that Danielle and Dylan had gotten into before; he needed stability and most importantly, he needed love. The love of two parents.

''I love you too.'' Dylan whispered back softly as Jason's breath tickled the hairs on his neck. ''Thank you for all that you do for me and my....our son.''

story
Plot
Divorce.

Dylan and Danielle Walker knew it was coming; what with their mounting debt and the tension-laced arguments about their toddler Camden's well-being. The two had been high school sweethearts, but those days were over now. All they could do now is pick up the pieces of their lives and move on separately.

The divorce came and went; an amicable custody agreement for their young son soon followed. Dylan went about his life in the lower income area of Queens, mounting legal debt from custody hearings and divorce agreements piled atop sky-high medical bills. Meanwhile, Danielle chased her dreams of a life of luxury in the Upper East side of Manhattan - right into the arms of a new man - an investment banker named John who wasted no time in stepping in as Camden's new father. Both Danielle and Dylan were unemployed - however, the matter seemed only to affect Dylan as he struggled to keep himself afloat.

Soon, the two would be back in court over Camden's custody; but this time, the same old song and dance was different. Dylan found himself fighting an ever-increasing battle just to maintain weekend, holiday and school break visits; John and Danielle argued that such a poor man couldn't be a fit father figure. Dylan won that fight, somewhat...but the real sting of the argument was still to come. As time went on, Dylan watched before his eyes as Camden grew from a happy, sweet young boy into a bratty, privileged adolescent whose caviar tastes weren't satisfied by what little Dylan had to offer. Before he knew it, the fight that had cost him everything had been adopted by his son: even he didn’t want to be around the poor old man Dylan had become. Still, ever hopeful, Dylan kept plugging along: resorting to selling his body to medical testing to keep a roof suitable in the court’s eyes for his son's begrudging visits. Dylan treasured every one.

It takes but one desperate post on Craigslist offering a couch to sleep on to completely de-rail Dylan’s life in the best way possible. A nice young conman with no baggage and money in hand walks into Dylan's life - and the haggard father is forced to reflect on the life he'd been treading water for. Jason, a couch-drifting hopeful bakery shop owner, spins the best lies. Dylan is suddenly not alone after years of silence; and the tell-tale feelings of romance shatter his self-image as devoted straight father. But really, becoming a devoted gay father didn't feel much different at the core?

Just when life seems to be settling, Camden begins spending more and more time with the pair. Mercifully, one summer, it looks as if Dylan might have an entire week with is boy! Not that Camden was too excited, trapped here in this small apartment with none of his expensive belongings with his disabled father and "his friend" that the boy had come to suspect was actually far more than that. No one knew that their saga were just about to take a turn no one saw coming, and the moment of carefree summer fun was not to last.

If We Had Everything emphasizes a man's ceaseless love for his only son, and the struggles faced by lower-income men who simply want what all fathers should want: time with their children. Medical debt and a lifetime of court battles somehow pave a path for a now-spoiled young boy to follow his heart and come to find a loving - but different - family. With the teamwork of a reluctant and somewhat childish step-father, this is a tale to prove that even boys like Camden can shed his past immaturities to start his own story that leads him to a place he never expected to be.
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