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bazwillendinflames · 3 years ago

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Are We On The Same Wavelength? (3/4) (Dylan/Ryan)

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Sequel to Second Chances, my college radio au. Thank you to everyone who commented on and supported that fic, it means so much to me!

“Have you ever liked someone so much you feel like you’re going to explode?”

After accidentally confessing his crush live on air, Dylan got his second chance with his dream guy. But as his relationship with Ryan develops, he feels out of his league. Can he finally find the words to express the extent of his feelings?

Dylan could hear the music of the party before he even got into the house, a catchy but very 2010s pop song. For a moment, Dylan considered that he might be at the wrong place, but Ryan wasn’t the type to prank him like that. He’d written the address in his neat handwriting on the back of his palm after dropping him off Thursday and he’d texted Dylan that morning too.

Once he got closer to the house, he passed a small group of girls outside passing around a cigarette with tightly curled hair and bright plastic jewelry that was more on theme than the playlist. The door had been left ajar and he pushed it open, stepping into the party, already scanning the crowd for Ryan.

At the only party he’d been invited to in high school, he had broken his arm and been chewed out by his Mom in the emergency room when she realized he had been drinking. By comparison the college parties Kaitlyn had dragged him along to had been more successful but he usually found himself acting like an idiot in the overwhelming social situations. At least Ryan was more of the hang out in a quiet corner type of guy.

Dylan was halfway through a text to Ryan, when he collided with someone with an arm full of beer bottles, which fell from his grip and rolled off into the crowd.

“Shit, sorry man,” Dylan said.

The guy he had bumped into had already bent down to pick them back up, the purple windbreaker he was wearing rustling. “It’s fine, no casualties.”

“That’s what I get for walking and texting. Technology, right?” He joked, rescuing a bottle from under a table.

“Just pretend that phones haven't been invented yet.”

“And use a landline to call my date?” He asked. “In this economy?”

Dylan still had the bookmark Ryan had scribbled his number on hidden in his backpack but that wasn’t something he was going to tell a stranger. He hadn’t even told Ryan, who at least had the decency to not tease him about the embarrassing series of events that led to where they were not. (Kaitlyn had no decency, so he got plenty of it from her.)

“Dude?” Dylan realized that the guy had been saying something. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Being recognised seemed like a fun idea when Kaitlyn first mentioned it, but the novelty had worn off quickly. “Yeah, I do the radio-”

“You’re Ryan’s date!” The guy interrupted, snapping his fingers.

Dylan nodded, relieved. “Yeah, lucky me right. Have you seen him?”

“Sure, he’s with Laura in the kitchen. I’m Max.” With his arms full, Max bumped their elbows in greeting, which was a little awkward but still worked.

Dylan followed him as they pushed through an already crowded lounge.

“Who picked this music?” He asked, as another generic pop song came on. If there wasn’t any ABBA at this party, he was going to make a formal complaint.

“No idea. Why, missing your day job?”

“I am a professional playlist maker,” he replied, wishing Kaitlyn was there to appreciate the joke. “It’s just not eighties and-”

Whatever point he was making about the music playing being about thirty years too late was forgotten once Dylan spotted Ryan, standing in a quiet corner like he’d been expecting.

Ryan was talking to a pretty blonde girl in a colorful patchwork shirt who had to be Laura. Her outfit was cool, complete with a vintage baseball cap, a comically oversized scrunchie around her wrist and dark velvet pants, but Ryan looked gorgeous. He was wearing the band shirt they’d picked up with some ripped jeans and his usual beat up Doc Martens. Ryan had cut the red flannel he’d brought into a vest and added some badges and safety pins to complete the look. Dylan was fairly sure having his arms out was cheating somehow, because he managed to trip over his own feet. Ryan spotted him then, looking amused. He put down the empty bottle he had been clutching, making his way over. Max took his space by Laura, adjusting her cap to give her a kiss.

“Hi Dylan,” Ryan said. “You finally made it.”

“Couldn’t leave you without your plus one.”

Maybe it was wishful thinking but Dylan could swear Ryan seemed more relaxed now they were together. “You went with the pink.”

Dylan looked down at his pink and green sweater. He’d stayed up to do a midnight laundry run so it would be ready to wear and had spent the whole train ride debating whether or not it suited him. But the sly way Ryan had looked him up and down made it totally worth it.

“You made a good case. I think the exact words were ‘you’d look totally handsome in pink.’”

Ryan was good at playing it cool, But he could make out the tiniest hint of a smile. “That’s not at all close to what I said. But it's true, so I’ll give you a pass.”

“You look good too. Very punk,” Dylan said.

Now he was closer, he could make out what Ryan had decorated his newly cut vest with: a collection of band badges, a little rainbow, and a Ponyo pin. More importantly, Ryan had smudged black eyeliner around his already pretty brown eyes and he enthralled.

“It was Sarah’s idea to DIY it,” Ryan answered, oblivious to the effect his new look had on him. “She said DIY is pretty punk. If you care about the opinion of a fourteen year old who’s going through her Hot Topic and hair dye phase.”

“So she’s much cooler than you?” Dylan joked.

“She wishes.” Ryan was full on grinning now. “So, you bumped into Max?”

“Yeah, very literally.”

He rolled his eyes. “That sounds like Max. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason why Laura always carries a first aid kit.”

There was a fondness to how Ryan spoke about his friends, the same as with his sister. Behind all the hot broodiness, he was kind of a softie. Ryan looked at Dylan that way too sometimes and he desperately wanted to crack the code to how to achieve it. (There was no way it was as simple as just wearing his glasses.)

“Ryan!” Laura called, waving them over. “Come over and introduce us to your boy.”

“So I’m your boy?” Dylan asked, trying to figure out if that rated higher than date or not. Although it was definitely better than plus one.

Ryan didn’t give him an answer, looking vaguely embarrassed.

They rejoined Max and Laura, who had somehow melted together; his arm around her shoulders, Laura resting her head against his chest, their fingers intertwined.

“Finally,” Laura said. “Ryan was really hoping you’d wear the pink.”

Dylan glanced over but he was avoiding looking back. He turned his attention back to Laura. If there was ever a time for charming blasé Dylan, it was now.

“I didn’t realize he was such a fashion critic. You guys look awesome by the way. Seriously, you could be in one of those eighties horror flicks I can barely sit through.”

“Thanks. This was my Mom’s shirt.” Laura’s posture was at ease but her eyes were alert though, scanning him with an intensity that reminded Dylan a little of Kaitlyn. He was in for one hell of a shovel talk when (if) he and Ryan got any further.

“We’re glad to finally meet Ryan’s secret admirer,” Max added.

He winced. “That will be a funny story one day.” If you asked half his friends, it was a funny story already.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Ryan asked.

Dylan took the out. “Yeah.”

“I already bought over the beers,” Max was saying as they left.

“Sorry,” Ryan said. “I should have told Laura not to bring up the whole radio incident.”

“Oh Kaitlyn gives me way worse shit for it,” Dylan said. “Which reminds me, those two should never meet.”

“We wouldn't survive it,” Ryan agreed. “The minifridge is in the lounge if you actually want a drink.”

“I’d love one.”

They clinked the bottles together in a cheers.

“Shit,” Ryan said.

“What?”

“The bottle opener is still in the kitchen.”

Dylan’s second attempt at bonding with Ryan’s friends had gone better. Ryan had mentioned his cat and Laura had been excited to look at the many photos of Mini that Dylan had on his phone.

He and Max got talking about their favorite films, which had a lot of overlap, minus the whole horror genre. Dylan had been explaining the lore of the Scott Pilgrim comics (“Knives is totally bi, that’s why she’s into Envy’s band!”) when a bunch of film majors had overheard and forced their way into the conversation.

Ryan was back next to Laura in the corner, talking about something he couldn’t make out. He kept looking over at Dylan, at first concerned, then mostly fondly. They kept catching each other's eye across the room and smiling.

Max nudged him, lowering his voice. “Want to head over?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll give you an out. Just send Laura to rescue me.” Max winked at him. “So, I was thinking about watching Pulp Fiction, have you heard of it?”

That was catnip for film bros, so whilst they spoke over each other about the cinematic genius of Quentin Tarantino, Dylan backed away. He didn’t make it far before someone else grabbed his elbow.

“Hey Dylan, I didn’t realize you were coming.”

It was Emma, who had fully committed to the eighties look with her mesh shirt, tripled belted high waisted jeans and a perfectly styled ponytail. Dylan wasn’t surprised she was here, Emma knew everyone and a themed party was exactly her kind of content.

“Ryan invited me.”

That piqued her interest enough to put down her phone. “Hot subway guy is here? ”

“Yeah. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Would I?” Emma asked. “Take a pic with me for my insta? Our outfits are totally color coordinated.”

Dylan leaned in, giving a peace sign as she snapped a photo. “Edit out the warts.”

“I always do.” Emma was back on her phone, her fingers moving quickly as she typed out a caption. “Kaitlyn’s giving me a ride home later by the way.”

“She’s coming?”

“To give me a ride, yeah.” Emma gave her phone a final tap and his phone buzzed with a notification he’d been tagged in her story. “Unless you’ll be with handsome over there instead?”

Dylan could feel his face flush. “No comment.”

Emma grinned. “How telling.”

Whilst she went back on her phone, Dylan finally made it over to Ryan, now standing alone. Laura had decided to rescue Max on her own, the two of them heading out into the yard.

“I finally escaped all the perilous social situations and made it back to you.”

“How brave of you,” Ryan replied. “Was that Emma Mountebank?”

“Do you know Emma?” Dylan asked in return. Emma was Instagram famous, sure, their own local celebrity but Ryan didn’t use social media beyond following a bunch of paranormal investigators.

“You talk about her on the show. Unless you have another influential friend.”

“Kaitlyn talks about her. I’m pretty sure she has a thing for her.” Dylan bit his lip. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your gossip is safe with me,” Ryan said.

Their conversation lulled for a moment. The song faded into what at first seemed like Mamma Mia but turned out to be a club remix. They both groaned. “That was the closest to an on theme song all night,” Dylan complained, going back to a familiar topic. “They ruined ABBA. This is too far.”

“Most of the songs aren’t even eighties,” Ryan said. “But I’m not allowed near the playlists. Too moody for a party.”

“How dare they limit your artistic expression!”

“Just blindly taking my side?” Ryan asked, nudging him.

“Oh totally.” Dylan nudged him back, although it was more of a lean, their shoulders pressed together. Not quite as easily falling into each other’s spaces like Laura and Max but still nice. “I kinda like moody, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Is that a compliment?” Ryan asked, in a monotone that made it hard to tell if he was in on the joke or not.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was.”

That seemed to reassure him. “Thanks. Maybe.”

Dylan had an idea, spotting the speaker in the corner. “Come on.”

The large speaker had been balanced on a coffee table, already covered in discarded bottles and paper cups.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked, looking a little alarmed. “Don’t mess with that.”

“Relax. It’s simple.”

Dylan pressed the power button, cutting off the pop song midway. A few people grumbled at the sudden quiet. Dylan already had his phone out, turning the speaking back on but connecting it to his own phone. He had his own curated eighties playlist already open from the train and he pressed play, filling the room with the opening guitar of Lovesong by the Cure.

“Moody enough for you?” He teased. “You take over the music at every party you go to?” Ryan asked. He was bopping his head a little to the music, which was incredibly cute. Dylan had noticed that music was Ryan’s comfort blanket. It was a little weird to see him without his headphones tonight.

“Only in case of emergency.” Dylan held out his phone. “Queue up whatever.” Handing over your phone was basically the twenty-first century of touching someone’s hand without a glove. Handing over your music was basically a proposal.

Ryan seemed surprised. “Really?”

Dylan nodded. “I think you can handle the responsibility.”

Ryan took his phone, scrolling through it. A song byThe Smiths that Dylan vaguely recognised came on. It was a little angsty for a party but he didn’t comment. He liked the little glimpses into Ryan’s music taste he got. “Ryan?”

“That’s your name,” Dylan said.

“No, the playlist.” He looked over at Dylan, seemingly thrown off. Making someone a playlist was like wearing a locket with their face in.

“Oh fuck.” Dylan leaned over and saw Ryan had found, but thankfully not opened, the playlist he had named after him. He had made it on the subway home after their cinema date where they had first kissed. “Um, that’s about a different Ryan?”

“It is?” He asked, completely serious. “No,” Dylan admitted. “Please don’t look at it. I’ll die and you don’t want that on your conscience.”

Ryan handed over the phone. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snooped.” He held on a moment too long, the warmth of his hand brushing against Dylan’s. He had only had one drink so far but it felt like the room was spinning. “I’d like to listen to it one day.”

“Only if you make a podcast about me?” Dylan said, regretting it straight away once he noticed the hurt flash across Ryan’s face. He wanted to be serious about their relationship but he couldn’t stop the dumb shit that came out once he panicked.

“A podcast about you?” He repeated slowly. “I think a Dylan playlist would be more fair.”

“Yeah. Totally.” Dylan moved his hand away, tucking his phone and its embarrassing secrets into his pocket.

It’s Friday I’m in love! Declared the next song and he winced.

“So,” Ryan said, breaking the silence, “I wanted to talk to you about something. Could we go somewhere quieter?”

#the quarry #the quarry fic #Ryan Erzahler #Dylan Lenivy #radioheads #in case anyone was wondering the 80s night with no 80s music was an actual compliant my friend had at a party #and the film bros expirence was very real too #*through gritted teeth* shut up about pulp fiction #i am a film student so thats said from explirence lol

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