#Pat Erzahler

[justmoreocs-writing]

Lacey Pearson (my current main muse) is an old childhood friend of Dylan’s; the two of them are pretty much inseparable and she’s thrilled that he’s finally come to Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp with her as a councillor after so many years going as kids. Her father, Norman, is an old friend of Chris’s and occasionally tries to help Travis out at the station. He knows about everything that’s going on, and goes to the Quarry to help with protection when he can. Lacey is a cheerleader for the blossoming romance between Ryan and Dylan, knowing both of them separately as well as how they’ve been at camp together. She’s got a massive crush on Nick, and neither of them are really sure how to navigate things with camp being over. Lacey is an animal lover and spent her time at camp trying to encourage the kids who needed a confidence boost when it came to trying new things.

Patrick ‘Pat’ Erzahler is Ryan’s cousin and went away to camp because their grandparents wanted him to try something that might help him come out of his shell a little bit. He worked in the medical centre with Kaitlyn, though he does wonder what happened to the girl that was meant to be there – as Kaitlyn kept reminding him she wasn’t meant to be there at all. Due to his quiet nature, Patrick was drawn to Abi and the two of them are close.

Clarice ‘Reece’ Damien (I’m kind of interested to see where I could take her story) is a friend of Max and Laura’s who decided to hitch a ride with them to camp. Reece ends up getting caught with them and is openly hostile to Travis, despite how the others might respond. When they meet up with the others, Reece openly flirts with Kaitlyn, and despite wanting to stick with Laura to protect her friend, she knows Laura needs someone she can trust to be with the other strangers. Over the course of the evening, Reece can’t help but lament slightly about the fact she never got to spend more time with Kaitlyn, and vows to try making sure they get to know each other better when they’re finally away from camp.

Kian ‘Key’ Custos is Jacob’s cousin. His parents were worried that he might get dragged into more unsavoury activities with his friends, or doing nothing at all, so they pretty much bribed him to go. Despite what people might think, Kian is a creative kid and worked with Abi a lot as he encouraged kids to write poetry or stories about the things they were doing. He’s got a blossoming crush on Ryan, and over the course of the evening he quickly begins to realise that they’re both trying to look out for each other more than keeping themselves safe.

Oliver ‘Ollie’ Hackett (he’s kind of gaining traction in my imagination) is the son of Travis and really doesn’t enjoy having to help out at the summer camp. He likes spending time with his cousins, but hates that he’s left behind when they leave and then has to deal with the questions people hurl his way. He’s worked with music for the kids at the camp for a few years, and he’s a little surprised when Dylan walks in offering to do the radio so he can focus more on the music. When the others get stuck in the lodge, Ollie is obviously terrified of what might happen, unsure of if he should be more worried about the friends he’s made over the summer finding out about his family secret, or about his family because he’s been taught they come first. Ollie does everything he can to try keeping people safe, though this isn’t always the easiest for him without some secrets being shared. Ollie has slowly developed romantic feelings for Dylan over the summer, and one more evening means he might actually get the chance to admit to those… If they both survive.  

[chipper9906]

The First... Chapter 3: The First...(Of Many) Late Night Talks

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 7,458

Overall Word Count: 19,178

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (3/?)

Chapter Preview:

It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews…

Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…

Wanted to be with Ryan.

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“Oh, crap… It pulled the wire…”

Dylan stared up at the ceiling of the hut, clouds of dust raining down from… whatever the hell that thing is walking across the roof, kicking it loose with every booming step. He could see the wire in question hanging free from the wall, so close yet seeming so very, very far…

“Fix it. I’ll cover you.” Ryan was glancing out the window to the hut, shotgun held in hand, looking for any signs of the beast prowling outside the cabin. “Do it now! Go, quickly!”

Dylan scrambled up onto the desk at Ryan’s frantic words, the knowledge that he was stood right next to him and keeping a careful eye out giving Dylan that extra little boost of bravery. He winces with the effort as he stretches up to the wire, barely able to reach it despite his tall frame. He couldn’t quite see it, having to go by feel instead, patting around at where the wire should be…

Hold on… He’s… He’s been here before. He’s experienced this. This… This already happened. Any second now, he’ll be feeling the sharp pain of teeth sinking into his palm. He’ll feel himself be slammed into the roof over and over again as the creature tries to pull him through, desperate to get a taste of the rest of him, barely able to hear Ryan yelling his name past his own screams.

But it doesn’t happen. 

The wire brushes against Dylan’s fingertips and he finally gets a good grip on it, plugging it back into the socket it had slipped out of. He sighs from the exertion, muscles relaxing as he drops his hand back down. Ryan lowers the shotgun down, barrel pointed to the ground as he asks, “What now? What else do you need to do—”

The roof collapses with a deafening cacophony of splintering wood, the beast crashing straight through. Dylan just about manages to leap back out of the way of the falling debris, collapsing down onto the desk and knocking most of the radio equipment off in the process. There’s nothing he can do but sit there mouth agape in horror as the creature lands on Ryan, sending them both careening to the ground. 

“RYAN!” He isn’t even able to finish screaming Ryan’s name before it happens. Through the haze of dust in the air, Dylan is forced to watch as the beast gives one big swipe of its claws… and it’s all over. Those razor-sharp daggers slice clean through his throat, and Ryan’s shocked yelp turns to a strangled sound of him choking, drowning as his windpipe is flooded with his own blood. There’s a sickening sound of bones crunching as the thing on top of him sinks its teeth into Ryan’s ribcage, ripping out chunks of flesh and feasting upon him. 

The creature takes a pause from its meal, snout raised in the air as it takes a few deep inhales, sniffing the air. It plucks what remains of Ryan from the floor with unnatural strength, flinging him to the other side of the room like a ragdoll. Then, slowly, it cranes its head around, piercing red eyes meeting Dylan’s tear-filled ones. It opens its mouth to snarl at him, yellowed teeth and pale skin stained red with Ryan’s blood, and that’s the last thing Dylan see’s before it’s lunging at him—

Dylan wakes with a strangled gasp, shooting upright in the hotel bed. He had managed to kick the sheets off of him completely, leaving the bare skin of his legs and arms exposed to the AC just above his head. The cold air blowing out of it caressed his clammy skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. It also makes him aware of a trail of wetness on his face, bringing up trembling fingers to his eyes and wiping away the tears he found there. 

He blows out a shaky breath from his mouth, pulling his legs towards him and burying his face into his hand. A sharp and painful twinge of pain in his left arm makes it twitch, pulling his face out of his hands with a wince. He looks down at it like he’s expecting to see something that would be causing it pain, but… funnily enough, there isn’t. It’s kind of the fact that nothing’s there that’s causing the pain. 

The room was pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains pulled across the windows, blocking out any light from the street lamps and cars below. The windows weren’t soundproof though, but it wasn’t much of a problem. The soft murmur of engines was more of a background noise than a hindrance, kind of like white noise that had helped lull him to sleep. 

Dylan reaches out his good hand over to the side table, patting at the wooden surface to find his phone. He pulls it towards him, charger cable still connected, and proceeds to blind himself as he unlocks the screen. Probably shouldn't have left it on full brightness before going to sleep. He squints past the sharp eye ache the glaring light instantaneously gave him, quickly lowering the brightness so he could actually see what the time was instead of just a wall of piercing light. 

The numbers ‘3:17AM’ stare right back at him, and Dylan chucks his phone back onto the nightstand with a groan that was half relief and half annoyance. Half annoyance because this was becoming a common theme now that he wasn’t too fond of — waking up repeatedly throughout the night either due to his stub acting up or because of the nightmares. Then again, he supposed they could be connected… Perhaps the pain in his arm was manifesting itself as nightmares in his unconscious mind…?

Either way, the only relief he got in seeing that he was awake at this god-awful time was that enough time had passed that he could take another dosage of painkillers. Dylan pulls himself out of bed, wearily heading to the bathroom — in particular to the mirror cabinet where he was currently storing what felt like the pharmacy’s entire stock of drugs the doctors had prescribed for him. He slaps the light switch, turning on the annoyingly bright lights with a grimace. It takes his tired mind a moment to find the right bottle, shaking out a few of the miracle pills and popping them into his mouth. He forgoes getting a glass, instead just sticking his face under the tap and getting a mouthful of water to swallow the pills down that way. 

Dylan turns the lights back out, nearly tripping over one of the room’s chairs he didn’t remember pulling out of place as he makes his way back to the bed in the dark. He flops down onto the bed with an exhausted groan, hoping this time he might fall into a dreamless sleep. But the moment he closes his eyes, those awful images are projected on the back of his eyelids. Back in the radio hut. Ryan, falling to the ground with that werewolf on top of him. Ryan, letting out a gurgled scream as it tears his throat apart. Ryan, laid out on the ground, eyes empty and lifeless as the wolf makes a meal out of him--

Dylan’s eyes pop back open, not finding much comfort in the dark of the room. This was pointless… No way was he going to be able to get back to sleep. But… God, was he exhausted. And turning on the shitty TV box in the corner of the room and flipping through channel upon channels of garbage didn’t sound too appealing either. He should sleep. He needs to sleep. The doctors had pounded it into his head, ‘sleep was the biggest step towards recovery’. 

They were just nightmares… That’s all. All fake. Just his mind creating images to scare him as he sleeps. None of that actually happened… Ryan wasn’t killed by that thing. He’s alive.

He… He is alive… right…?

No, no, this was stupid. He knew Ryan was okay. He had talked to him in the hospital. He was right there with him, while he was…

High off his ass on drugs…

Wait… Was Ryan there? Like, actually there, and not a hallucination? He hadn’t… he hadn’t been imagining him, had he? He couldn’t have… No, he… he saw him back in the lodge, too. Before the cops and the ambulances had arrived. And - oh, he’s an idiot; he even knew the number of the room Ryan was staying in. Ryan was fine. 

He’s fine. 

…Unless?

“Dammit—” Dylan pulls himself out of bed yet again. He yanks the charger cable out of his phone, snatching it up from the table — alongside his key card to the room. 

This was ridiculous… It hadn’t been that long since he last talked to Ryan. Less than a week, really. Sure, he’d rather that not been the case, but when you’ve got the cops holding a murder charge over your head and telling you not to speak to each other until the investigation is concluded, you tend to follow those orders. 

But that was all over now. Finally, finally, the nightmare was over. It had been the last day… The last round of interviews. Now, they were free.

For the time being, anyway…

Dylan softly pads down the carpeted hallways of the hotel, thankful for the dimmed sconces along the wall lighting his way. He probably should have put on some shoes or at least some socks before leaving his room, but his brain wasn’t exactly making the most sound of decisions right now. If anyone took a glance through the peep-hole in their door, they’d probably think he was a sleepwalker making his way up and down the halls, clad in his soft gray cotton pajama bottoms and tee his parents had brought with them on the flight over. Well, except for the fact they would see he was very much awake, looking right back at every door he walked past, silently counting the number attached to them in his head. 

It was almost a form of torture, having Ryan’s room so close to his own, and still be unable to see him. Now here he was, stood outside room 258, good hand raised up to rap his knuckles against the door. 

He doesn’t knock. 

Dylan drops his hand back down with a sigh. It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews… 

Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…

Wanted to be with Ryan. 

Dylan raises his hand again, about to knock when the door swings open. He manages to stop his fist from moving forward before effectively punching Ryan in the face, arm freezing in place as the both of them startle back, not expecting to see the other. Dylan’s gaze immediately dropped down to Ryan’s apparel, not finding pajamas but a pair of darkly colored boxes and a plain black shirt, long sleeves covering his arms.

“Jesus--” Ryan closed his eyes, taking a breath to recover from the mini heart attack he just had. 

“Oop…Sorry, I--” Dylan’s eyes shifted between his raised fist and Ryan, slowly lowering his hand back down. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

Ryan gave a nod of his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh… Neither could I.”

“Were you…” Dylan paused, glancing to the side and down the empty hallway. “Were you going somewhere?”

“Um… Yeah. Yeah, actually, I was…” Ryan gave Dylan somewhat of an awkward smile, briefly raising a hand in Dylan’s direction. “I was… looking for you, actually.”

“Oh,” Dylan blanched, not knowing where to look now Ryan was staring at the ground. “Well… You found me.”

Ryan huffed, tipping his head in agreement. He manages to meet Dylan’s gaze again, stepping to the side of the door frame and gesturing into his room. “Did you wanna… come in, or…?”

Dylan shuffled into the room, near identical to his own — although, perhaps a little tidier than his. Ryan was not a fan of the ‘the floors fine’ method of putting away clothes, it seemed. That’s not to say that he had left the cabins back at camp a complete pig sty, (he’s not that big of an asshole) but in his own space, he liked to be a little more… lax. 

Ryan softly closed the door behind him, watching Dylan as he carried out a little inspection of his room. “You can sit down if you want.”

Dylan nodded, heading over to Ryan’s bed and taking a seat on the end. Same mattress too, it seemed. By which he means, rock solid and about as good as a slab of concrete for comfort. Although, this one doesn’t have a spring poking him in the ass, so… Dylan guessed this one was slightly better. 

Dylan let out a tired sigh, glancing up at Ryan from his perch on the bed. “You gonna take a seat too, or do you wanna keep up this trend of standing there awkwardly whenever one of us enters a room?”

Ryan bit back a smile at the strangely accurate comment, rolling his eyes at Dylan’s sleepy but satisfied smile. He walked over to Dylan, the bed dipping down as Ryan sat down next to him. “So… You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Nope.” Dylan popped the ‘p’. “Kinda expected it, but… not like this. I think maybe it’s… I dunno, it’s the interviews? Having to constantly retell the night over and over in detail, it’s just… It’s fucking with my head or something.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Ryan mumbled. “So, you haven’t been able to sleep at all?”

“Uh, y’know… Small amounts every now and then. Actually managed to get to sleep tonight, but…” Dylan trailed off, huffing in laughter. “How do I say ‘I had a nightmare’ without sounding like a little kid?”

Ryan’s lips twitched, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t need to be a kid to have nightmares. And you don’t need to be a kid for them to mess you up sometimes…”

“Yeah… Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the nightmares where you’re just… suddenly in your underwear during that big presentation you were dreading. I mean… you go your whole childhood being told not to be scared of the dark, but now we know the kind of shit that’s actually out there, y’know?”

“Werewolves… Ghosts…” Ryan shook his head, looking to the lamp that kept the room alight in a soothing golden glow with gratitude. It had been left running every night without fail. Wouldn’t be too surprising if the hotel added an extra charge for all the electricity he’s been using… “I don’t think I even want to know what else is out there.”

“Probably for the best.”

Ryan looks away from the lamp, directing his gaze back over to Dylan. “Did you wanna talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean. You don’t have to, but, uh — well, you were trying to get away from the whole ‘sounding like a kid thing’ — but whenever my sister has bad nightmares, she likes to come find me and tell me about them. Sounds counterproductive, but I think it helps get it out of your mind to say it out loud, if that makes sense?”

“I guess…” Dylan slouched over with a sigh, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “As you can probably guess, it was about camp… Back at the, uh… Back at the radio hut.”

Ryan’s eyes soften, watching as Dylan unconsciously finds his hand drifting over to his stub. The doctors had given him a sleeve to go over it, but for now it was covered in layers of gauze and medical dressings. “You… dream about that often?”

Dylan shook his head. “You’d think I would, wouldn’t you? I don’t get it either. But no, this was the first nightmare I had of it. Except… It didn’t play out the way it actually happened.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get bit?”

“Nope. I fixed the wire instead.”

“So… You didn’t lose your hand?”

“No,” Dylan answers, eyes focused on his fingers as they pick at a loose corner of dressing on his stump. “I lost you, instead.”

Ryan’s brows fly up, unable to say anything in response. Dylan continued to play with the gauze around his arm, his foot repeatedly tapping up and down in place. “Fucking thing just… came right through the roof. It was on you, then… you were gone. I had to--” Dylan’s voice catches, the light from the lamp next to them reflecting the glossy sheen in his eyes. “I had to watch you die, man. Had to see your throat get sliced open… Had to hear you fucking scream…”

Dylan closed his eyes, shaking his head before lowering it. Ryan still didn’t know what to say — what he could say — as Dylan quickly wiped his face on the sleeve of his shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly getting much sleep after that. I know it’s dumb, but after I woke up, I… I needed to see that you were okay. Still… here, y’know? I mean, I knew you were fine, but in my minds… mind, the last time we saw you was bleeding out and half eaten on the floor of the radio hut, so…”

“I get it,” Ryan finally manages to get some words out. “I’m sorry to be… a cause of suffering? I guess?”

Dylan actually had to laugh at that, glancing over to Ryan with a baffled frown. “It’s not like you have control over my dreams, dude. Besides, the fact that I’m having nightmares about losing you just means you’ve become an important enough part of my life to worry over that, so… I’m almost glad, in a way. I mean, I’d rather not see you be disemboweled by a werewolf in my dreams, but…”

Ryan chuckled softly, the room falling into a comfortable silence not long after. It was something easy, they found. Enjoying each other's company. Sometimes it wasn’t words that were needed to comfort, but simply the other's presence. Almost like an anchor, or… or a life preserve. Something to hold onto through this storm. Keep you grounded. 

“How’s your hand?” Ryan broke the silence. 

“Oh, my hand?” Dylan glanced down at his stub, raising it up. “Still detached from my body, I believe.”

Ryan snorted, the sound bringing out a grin from Dylan. “Alright. How’s your arm?”

“Good. I think.” Dylan raised his arm up even higher, bringing it up to eye level as he looks it over. “I mean… It still hurts every now and then. But that’s what the painkillers are for.”

“Are you getting any, uh… Phantom pains?” Ryan asked, timidly, like he wasn’t sure whether it was something he should mention. “I read that it’s pretty common, especially right after you lose the… limb.”

Dylan sighed, slowly lowering his arm back down, eyes cast down towards the ground. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the pains coming from. Doc said there’s gonna be some pain and soreness from the surgery site for a while and… Yeah, he warned me about phantom pain, too. It’s weird, I… I can be looking right at it. Right at where my hand is no longer there, and… I can still feel it. Even right now, I can try and flex my fingers — fingers that aren’t there — and it feels like it’s happening.”

“But… no pain?” Ryan asked. 

Dylan’s silence answered Ryan’s question before his eventual words did. “Like I said… Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s just pain from the surgery or… that. But the painkillers help. They help a lot. It’s just… something I’ll have to get used to, I guess.”

“The, uh… The website I was on said it usually gets better with time,” Ryan tried to offer some consolation. “Apparently they used to think it was like… only psychological? But now they know it’s actually a mix-up in the signals between your brain and the amputated limb, so it’s…” Ryan slowly trailed off at Dylan’s combo of amused smile and raised eyebrow, dropping his hands that had been flailing about as he spoke. “…I’m not helping, am I?”

“More than you could know,” Dylan answered, voice warm and soft. “Are you… doing research on all of this?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Ryan said, like it shouldn’t have been surprising to Dylan that he had. “I feel like I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t at least find some stuff out that could… help, I guess. Especially given the fact that I’m the one that did this to you…”

“Ryan…” Dylan leaned back as he signed Ryan’s name. “We’ve been over this, remember? I mean, you should more so than me given I was drugged at the time. This isn’t your fault. I asked, you did it. End of story.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And secondly, ‘friend’, huh?" Dylan asked with a teasing grin before Ryan could argue back. “That what we are?”

“Uh…” Heat instantly flushed Ryan’s face, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. “It’s, uh… We… I didn’t want to like… Push anything onto you, or… assume anything…”

“Fairly certain I was the one being pushy,” Dylan said. “Speaking of, I… I should probably say sorry for, uh… back at the hospital. You were obviously uncomfortable and my dumb-slash-high-ass was pushing you for a kiss, and that just… was not cool of me--”

“Don’t… Don’t apologize for that, man,” Ryan cut off Dylan’s ‘apology’ with a hint of a laugh. “Like you said: You asked, I did. Except, unlike when I dismembered you… I wanted to.”

“Oh…” Dylan blinked in surprise, glancing away with a disbelieving smile. “So… Friends that… happen to know what each other's mouth tastes like? And happen to both ‘want’ to kiss each other? Unless… I’m reading that wrong?”

“Yeah, I- uh… I guess I’m not denying that.” Ryan’s face continued to flush, missing Dylan’s piercing gaze as he stared down at his own hands. “I’m… not great at this.”

“That’s okay,” Dylan assured him. Dylan’s hand on his leg forced Ryan’s eyes up to meet his, finding nothing but the reassurance and kindness he had just heard. “I don’t want to push anything on you, either. If this is too much for you—”

“No!” Ryan blurted out, the mini outburst taking both of them by surprise. “No, it’s, uh… It’s not that. Sometimes things can get a little overwhelming for me, but it’s not that I don’t want that. That I don’t want… this. I’m not sure what this is, or even if we need to define what this, or… or what we are, but…” Ryan exhaled softly, timid eyes meeting Dylan’s. In this moment, they were one of the same. Both desperate for that connection… yet equally as terrified of rejection from the one they long to connect with.

Dylan wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in first, or whether they both moved at the same time. But it was as they shifted, as Ryan turned towards him for a better angle, that his arm lightly caught Dylan’s stub. Dylan couldn’t help but hiss in pain, flinching back as the sharp pain shoots up his arm from the slightest of touches. 

Ryan’s face falls, guilt shining in his eyes as he quickly pulls away from Dylan, not wanting to hurt him any more than he has. “Shit, I… Fuck, I’m sorry, Dylan, I--”

“I’m okay…” Dylan is quick to assure him, though the wince pulling at his face doesn’t help much with that. “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve already smacked it into so many door frames, this was nothing. Earlier today? I tried to turn on a light switch with it. Was on the floor for a good five minutes after that.”

Ryan’s face quite clearly said this was not helping. “Do you… Do you need more painkillers, or…?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dylan waved him off, admittedly looking less pained than he did a moment ago. “I took some not long ago anyway. They’ll kick in soon, and I’ll be pain-free before you know it. I mean, the strength of these things? You could probably kick me in the nuts and I wouldn’t feel a thing. Don’t test that theory, but I’m just saying.”

Ryan shook his head, barely resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I... Won't?”

“My balls appreciate that,” Dylan said so sincerely that Ryan could only stare blankly back at him. “Seriously though, I’m good. Doc’s got me on a strict regime of painkillers and checks.”

“...Checks?”

“Yeah, checks I gotta do on myself.” Dylan twitches his stub up. “Just basic ones, twice a day. Undress it, check for infection, then redress it in new gauze. Once in the morning, and once in the evening…” Dylan trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as he looked away in thought. “…Which… I forgot to do tonight…”

“That’s… not great,” Ryan noted. “So… When you said ‘strict regime--”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sassy with me,” Dylan grumbled. He regretfully stood from Ryan’s bed, stretching out his shoulders and popping the kinks out of his neck. “I should probably… Go do that…”

Ryan too jumped up from the bed, Dylan still stretching with his back to him as he asks, “Do you want me to do it?”

Dylan freezes mid-arm stretch, right arm caught in the crook of his left as he turned to face Ryan. “You… Want to help change the dressings on my arm?”

Ryan shrugged, looking a little confused by Dylan’s surprise at his offer. “…Yeah? It’s… good practice, y’know?”

Dylan tilted his head, flashing Ryan a giddy grin that only confused Ryan even more. “Aw… Sounds like you’re planning on hanging around, Ryan.”

Ryan rolled his eyes at him, stepping closer with a hand outstretched. “Just… give me your damn key card and I’ll go get the stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s just…” Dylan muttered, the sudden awkwardness he was displaying making Ryan drop his hand. 

“Do you… not want me to help?” Ryan asked, joining Dylan in the awkwardness. “Oh, is… Is it something, like… intimate? Seeing your arm like that? Sorry, I didn’t… Didn’t think of it that way.”

It… kind of was, strangely. It shouldn’t be, given that Ryan’s technically seen the inside of his arm as he tried to stop him from bleeding out on the floor of the radio hut, which was just… all kinds of ‘ew’. It was beyond gross that he now knows what his bones look like, which ideally is something you should never have to see in your life. Generally speaking, bones are supposed to stay inside your body and not be visible. Wait… Were teeth bones?

Anyway, he’s getting off-topic. He wasn’t sure why the thought of Ryan seeing his naked, bare stub was tripping him up, but… it was. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of; he knew that. But there was something so… private about it. And, as much as he wants to be brave about it… It’s not the prettiest of things to see. Especially so fresh after surgery… Perhaps it’s because he still had to get used to it himself. It was still as much of a shock for him to see as it is for others. Even now, he occasionally catches sight of it and it startles him, like… ‘Oh shit… Where did my hand go?’

But… he doesn’t want to push Ryan away. And yeah, past the thrill of knowing Ryan actually plans to be in his life enough to help him get through this, it does make sense that Ryan will see it eventually. So… Why not now? Why not accept the help? 

Dylan dug his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his rooms key card and holding it out to Ryan. “Excuse the mess that is my room. I like to turn my floor into a fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over this time?’ ”

Ryan tries and fails to hold back his smile, plucking the key card out of Dylan’s hand. “Where’s the stuff I need?”

“Uh… Cabinet in the bathroom.”

“Got it.” Ryan flicked the key card in acknowledgment before heading towards the door to his room. “If I’m not back in five minutes, assume that fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over?’ turned into a not-so-fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over and knock myself out on?’ ”

“Try not to do that, but… I will take a picture of you and send it to everyone if you do.”

The last thing Dylan saw of Ryan as he slipped past the door was his hand flipping him the bird, before that too was gone, and the door gently shut behind him. Dylan chortled quietly to himself in the stillness of the room, turning back towards the main part of the room with a thoughtful sigh. What now? Take a look around? Doesn’t seem like there’d be much point; Ryan did not treat hotel rooms with the same disregard as him, and had quite clearly placed his belongings where they were supposed to be — out of sight and behind closed doors. He was never much of a snooper, anyway. Privacy was important — and so was the respect of others’ privacy. 

The buzz of his phone in his pocket gave Dylan the distraction he was looking for. He pulls out his phone, flopping back down onto Ryan’s bed as he checks his new incoming message. 

  ***Sent 4:12AM***

Ryan: Room 252, right?

***Received 4:12AM***  

Dylan:  Yup, that’s the one

            I’m now imagining you stood there like an idiot trying to use the key card              on the wrong door

The use of the middle finger emoji from Ryan brought out another grin from Dylan. 

***Sent 4:13AM***  

Ryan:   Alright, I’m in

  ***Received 4:13AM***  

Dylan:  Ok, Mr. Robot

  ***Sent 4:13AM***  

Ryan:  ?

  ***Received 4:14AM***  

Dylan:  The show?

           It’s a hacking reference, Ryan. ‘I’m in?’ You must have heard that before?

  ***Sent 4:14AM***  

Ryan:  Oh

          I never watched that show

  ***Received 4:15AM***  

Dylan:  I’d be mad, but now I’m compiling a list of stuff in my head we can watch               together, so it takes away the sting a little bit.

            …Up for some Netflix and Chill, Ryan?

  ***Sent 4:15AM***  

Ryan:  Stop distracting me before I actually DO trip over something in here and break my neck

  ***Received 4:16AM***  

Dylan:    Mmm… No

              Plus you’ve just given me the power of knowledge, Ryan. 

             The knowledge that I can say stuff like that and have it work on you

             You Fool…

  ***Sent 4:17AM***  

Ryan:  Got it. I’ll be sure not to respond to any future attempts at flirting via text

  ***Received 4:18AM***  

Dylan:  Wait, no--

          Actually, um, excuse you? ‘Attempts’ at flirting? 

          There was no ‘attempt’, Ryan. I flirted; you succumbed to my charms

          I bet you’re blushing like a school girl in my room rn

 The door to the room swinging open nearly made Dylan jump out of his skin, head snapping up to see Ryan stood in the door frame, juggling both his phone and the supplies for Dylan’s arm as he gives Dylan a rather pointed look, lips pressed tightly together as the heat pulsing in his cheeks only served to prove Dylan right — except for the location. 

“You’re thinking about retracting that offer to help, huh?” Dylan asked, smiling unashamedly up at Ryan’s mostly playful glare.

Mostly. 

Ryan looked like he was resisting the urge to throw the bandages in his hands directly at Dylan’s self-satisfied smile, closing the door perhaps a little harder than he should do at this time of night. Morning. Whatever.

“I should block your number…” Ryan suggested, chucking his phone towards the head of the bed before taking a seat next to Dylan.

Dylan gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ryan agreed with a hint of a smile. He carefully placed the bandages and gauze down on the empty bit of bed next to him and turned to Dylan, face turning serious. “You sure you’re okay with me doing this? If you don’t want me to--”

“No, I do,” Dylan insisted, letting out a shaky breath as he looked at his arm. “I want your help. Just… might be a little weird, is all.”

Ryan’s mouth twitched in sympathy. Then, his eyes lit up in realization, bouncing up from the bed and grabbing something from the supplies with such urgency that Dylan thought a werewolf had suddenly entered the room or something. Ryan shot towards the bathroom, and Dylan’s question of whatever the hell Ryan was doing was answered with the sound of running water. Ryan came back into the room not long after, hands now thoroughly washed and adorned in sterile, latex gloves.

“You ready?” Ryan asked, gloved hands held in the air. 

Dylan bit down on his lip so hard that he was sure it’d bleed. “...I’d love to make a sexy doctor joke here about a prostate check--”

“Stop confusing porn with real life.” Ryan sat back down next to Dylan. He reached out towards Dylan’s arm, then paused, looking up at Dylan with an eyebrow raised in question. He waited for Dylan’s nod before placing his hand on Dylan’s arm with the tenderest of touches, so light Dylan couldn’t even feel it. 

Nimble yet delicate fingers began the painstaking effort of removing the multiple layers of bandages wrapped around Dylan’s stump, Ryan’s eyes laser focused as he worked. Meanwhile, Dylan wasn’t looking at his arm in the slightest. He just… He couldn’t look away from Ryan. And sure, that had been a common theme since he first laid eyes on the guy, but in this moment especially… 

Man… He was really screwed, wasn’t he?

“Tell me if I hurt you…” said Ryan, words barely above a mumble, most of his focus diverted towards what his hands were doing than his mouth. 

“Sure. Will an ‘ow’ do, or should I like… scream at the top of my lungs? Which will get your attention more?”

“The first,” Ryan answers, not even glancing up at Dylan for his comment. “The second would probably make me jump, which would probably hurt you more. Not to mention make everyone on this floor think I’m murdering you in here.”

“...Or they could think it’s the other kind of screams.”

Ryan’s hands stilled, bandages half hanging off Dylan’s arm. Funnily enough, this was the comment that got Ryan to look up at him. “I’m… not sure how given you’d be screaming in pain. Unless… Do you… Do you usually make screams of pain during sex?”

Dylan clicked his tongue. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” 

Ryan bit down hard on his tongue, eyes dropping back down to Dylan’s arm as he cleared his throat. “I… Don’t think that line worked the way you were hoping it would.”

“Yeah, I tried to save it and made it so much worse…”

Ryan unwrapped the last bit of bandage left, delicately sliding it off the healing skin. He kept a tentative hand loosely held around Dylan’s arm as he shot Dylan a half smile. “It’s okay. I knew what you were trying to get at.” 

Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was just because Ryan was quickly falling into this sense of comfort with Dylan that made it easier; easier to say the things that he wanted to say but often held back, unsure what others would think of him if he freely said such things. Not wanting to… well, fuck things up, Ryan supposed. But as he said, Dylan just made it easier. Enough to gather the confidence to say, “And in that case… I do intend to find out.”

That was all it took for Dylan, it seemed. The slightest of flirting back from Ryan, and boom — mouth dry, brain switched off. Not a thought. Just Ryan’s words bouncing around in an empty skull as he stares wide-eyed at Ryan like some sort of creep. 

It also did a very good job of distracting him from the fact that Ryan was now looking at his exposed stub. For about… five seconds, anyway. Then it was a case of being sat here not knowing what to say or where to look as Ryan looked so meticulously over his injury that Dylan was starting to think he was trying to memorize it or something. 

“It’s, uh… Not a pretty sight,” Dylan tried to joke, but the delivery fell flat, along with his lopsided smile. It was true, though. At least in his eyes. It was… swollen, skin bruised and flushed pink, near red. Haggard stitches ran along the curvature of the stump, their dark black marks dug into his skin. 

Ryan’s eyes flicked up to Dylan, to his downtrodden gaze, and he didn’t like that one bit. “You know what I see?”

“Hopefully not a sign of infection?”

“No—” Ryan blew right past that. “—I see the proof that you faced hell head-on and came through the other side. I see someone who knows he’s still got a long road ahead of him but is ready to face that just the same. You wear this like a badge of honor, Dylan. Because that’s what it is. This, is you. Be proud.”

Okay, so maybe this was how Dylan’s brain fully malfunctions.

“And it’s a part of a very pretty person,” Ryan added on like it was nothing more than an afterthought, not even looking at Dylan as he reached for the fresh gauze. “So, yes. It is a pretty sight.”

Nope. That did it. Right there. 

“Sweet Jesus, what are you doing to me?” Dylan whispered as Ryan cautiously placed the back of his against the flushed skin of his stump, doing his best to avoid the stitches as he feels for any excessive heat from him. 

“Um… Nothing?” Ryan answered, seemingly deeming his temperature to be okay as he begins applying a fresh layer of gauze over his arm. “I’m just being ‘Ryan Ryan’. ”

“Ohhh, that’s not fair,” Dylan complained, his drawing out of the ‘oh’ bringing out a quiet chuckle from Ryan. “You can’t do that to me…”

“Why not…?” Ryan asked in reply, still not looking at Dylan but keeping his focus purely on the task at hand, and man... He was doing a good job, but Dylan just wanted to see his goddamn eyes—

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you keep bringing out ‘Ryan Ryan’ and I fall in love with you in like, three days. It’ll happen. I will cling to you, and you will regret it.”

Finally, finally, those rich encompassing brown eyes meet with his. “Safe to say I have a few regrets. From that night especially…” Dylan wasn’t sure if the tingles shooting up his arm were from the tightness of the new bandages being secured, or from the feather-touch brushes of Ryan’s fingers as they worked. “The only regret I’ll have with you? Is not kissing you long before that night by the fire.”

“Oh,” Dylan squeaks, having to fight down the urge to punch himself in the face. Oh? Oh?! What kind of a response was ‘oh?’ 

“All done,” Ryan snaps Dylan out of his self-hating thoughts, only struggling a little bit as he pinches and pulls at the latex gloves on his hands to get them off. “Looks good from what I can tell.”

“Oh - uh, y-yeah, looks good,” Dylan stammers out in agreement. “Hey, so quick question: When the hell did you get so good at flirting?”

Ryan looked in very clear disagreement to that, head jolting back with an affronted frown. “I always was.”

“Alright, let me change the question: Where the hell is all this flirting coming from?”

Ryan balls up the gloves in his hands, chucking them into the trash can in the corner of the room with surprising ease. “Do you want me to stop?”

“God no.”

Ryan snorted. “I wouldn’t really call any of that flirting, anyway. I’m just… saying what’s true.”

“Well, it’s working a little too well on me, so I’d class it as flirting.”

“If you say so.” Ryan found it easier to just agree. “I also haven’t slept in like, forty hours? So that’s probably affecting my filter a little bit.”

“Forty—?!” Dylan spluttered. “Jesus, Ryan, when you said you couldn’t sleep--”

“I’m fine--”

“No, you’re not. Christ, you… you should have kicked me out man, try and get some sleep--���

“I won’t. Sleep, I mean. Or kick you out, for that matter.”

“Then… Shit. I’d say I’d try and help, but I’m not sure how…” Dylan looked over to the pile of medical supplies Ryan had brought over, wading his good hand through them to get a better look. “ I might have some sleeping pills somewhere…”

“Got my own,” Ryan shot down the idea and a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t work.”

Dylan blew a long puff of air from his mouth, glancing over to the old digital alarm clock collecting dust on Ryan’s bedside cabinet, the numbers and letters blinking ‘4:24 AM’ at him. “Okay… Then let’s switch roles.”

“...I… Don’t know what that means…”

“You helped me, now I help you,” Dylan answers, gesturing with his thumb behind his shoulder to the head of the bed. “Go lay down.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna--”

“Go lay down.” Dylan’s commanding tone caught Ryan by surprise, mouth swinging shut as he blinked in shock. “Please…” Dylan added as an afterthought. 

“Alright…” Ryan conceded, moving up the bed. He laid back against the bed’s headboard, hands in his lap and legs stretched out in front of him as he watched Dylan fumble with the medical supplies, trying to move them from the bed over to the empty space on the room’s desk. “You could have just asked me to do that--”

“I got it!” Dylan insisted, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on not dropping everything. He beamed with success once everything had been moved, heading back over to Ryan’s bed, proud smile switching to a frown at the sight of Ryan's plank-like posture. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“Not really,” Ryan had to admit. 

“Alright, possibly embarrassing question for you coming up, but one I feel is fairly important.” Dylan clambered onto the bed next to Ryan, leaning back with a sigh as he turned his head to face him. “So, for me, I slept like a baby when we, uh… When we shared a bed back in the hospital. Granted, I slept like a baby that was on a lot of drugs, but it wasn’t just that. You made me feel…” Dylan trailed off, admittedly finding himself a little embarrassed to be saying this out loud. 

“Safe,” Ryan finished for him, a timid smile almost impossible to see pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I… I slept pretty well, too.”

“Okay, so… What’dya say?” Dylan offered. “Wanna test the theory again?”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for a sleepover,” Ryan teased, much to Dylan’s delight. 

“Sure. But maybe without the pillow fight? There’s only so much I can do with one hand.”

“I’m not even gonna comment on that…” Ryan reached over Dylan, flipping the small light switch on the wall next to the bed. The little lamp by him was extinguished, room plunging into darkness, and Ryan froze. He hadn’t been expecting it — that sudden wash of fear, ice cold and gripping tight around his chest, ripping away the air in his lungs. 

But then Dylan’s hand is softly curling into his shirt, guiding him back down to the bed, and just like that, the warmth returns. Ryan lets Dylan pull him down, and they settle together like they had been doing this for years: Ryan curled into Dylan’s side, his head rested atop Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s good arm wrapped him, fingers tracing soothing paths up and down his sleeved arm. Dylan didn’t use any more words, and he didn’t need to. All of a sudden, with the gentle ‘thuds’ of Dylan’s heart under his ear, his deep, soft breaths, and the warmth of his skin bleeding into Ryan’s… the dark almost felt soothing. 

And with Dylan’s hold around him… Ryan let himself sink into it.