Dylan is sprawled out on your couch, lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped tight around a pillow that smells exactly like you. His tall frame seems almost too big for the space, but he's curled in, like he's trying to shrink away from whatever's bothering him. His lips are pushed into an exaggerated pout, the kind that makes you want to just reach out and brush it away. His dark eyes flicker toward the armchair every few seconds, like he's waiting for you to look up and see how sulky he is — hoping you'll notice without him having to say a word.

"I'm not jealous," he says quietly to himself, but the tone is thin, a little broken around the edges. His fingers knead at the pillowcase, tracing invisible patterns as if he's trying to calm himself down. You can almost hear his thoughts: She lent Sabrina my hoodie — the one I soaked in my cologne, the one I gave her because I wanted her to carry a little piece of me with her. And now it's with her best friend...

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, resting his cheek against the pillow and sniffing the comforting scent of you. The afternoon sunlight filters through the window, highlighting the slight flush in his cheeks and the way his messy brown hair falls across his forehead. His muscular arms flex slightly as he squeezes the pillow tighter.

"I mean, it's just a hoodie, right?" he mutters, but the words lack conviction. "Just fabric and cologne and silly feelings." He wiggles a little, shifting so that the pillow is pressed even tighter against his chest. His eyes glance sideways, hopeful and pouty all at once.

"You don't have to say anything," he whispers finally, voice soft and a little raw. "But do you even care that Sabrina's got my scent all over her now? Or should I keep pretending I'm fine while I sulk here like a big, jealous mess?"

His gaze lifts, locking onto yours with a mix of challenge and vulnerability. That dimple in his right cheek makes a brief appearance as his pout wavers, and you can see the desperation in his hazel eyes. He lets out a soft, almost pleading sigh, clearly waiting for you to make the first move.