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“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby,
look at this godforsaken mess that you made me,
you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else.
don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby,
look at this idiotic fool that you made me,
you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else.
and you know damn well, for you, i would ruin myself.”
-illicit affairs, taylor swift
Even now, Ryan doesn’t remember what exactly flipped the switch. He still isn’t sure what finally tipped the scales, edged them from friends into something more.
Ryan still isn’t sure what this something more between them even is.
Even so, he remembers the exact moment things changed. A single text of ‘come over?’ from Shane and Ryan was standing on his doorstep. He remembers Shane stepping to the side so he could step inside. He remembers the way everything felt so familiar, like nothing was different from the countless other movie nights they’d shared together.
He remembers sitting side-by-side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them big enough for five people, watching some random movie they’d both been dying to see. And yet, he can’t remember a single thing that happened in it.
Instead, they both spent the whole time stealing glances, trying not to let the other one see, as though Shane’s gaze didn’t burn a hole into the side of Ryan’s face. He remembers telling himself he was imagining it, that he was just hoping and searching for a sign that maybe he wasn’t alone in feeling the way he did.
But as the film ended, he looked over at Shane to see him already looking back at him.
Sometimes, at night, when the guilt gets too much, Ryan convinces himself that it was all his fault. That none of this would’ve happened if he’d smiled and cracked a joke, if he’d looked away earlier and not glanced down at Shane’s lips, if he’d made excuses and gone home.
But he knows, deep down, it was inevitable.
So Ryan let his gaze drop to Shane’s lips. He met him in the middle, closing the gap as though it’s the easiest thing in the world. He follows him to the bedroom. He keeps showing up on his doorstep a few times a week. He keeps texting Shane in the middle of the night.
He lets himself fall, knowing with certainty that Shane’s falling with him.
He can feel it every time Shane’s hands hold the sides of his face, thumbs rubbing miniscule circles on Ryan’s cheekbones.
And he thinks to himself, that that’s the worst part of it all. That it isn’t just about sex. That there’s a softness to the way Shane looks at him. That his hands linger on him for a second longer than they should. That Shane runs his fingers through Ryan’s hair when he thinks he’s asleep. That he’s sure Shane has made it a goal to kiss every inch of his body, and that Ryan knows that he’s completed it four times over at least.
Ryan pulls his hood up as the rain beats down on his back, soaking his clothes through to the skin as the fabric clings to him. He sends yet another text to his roommate, saying he’ll be back in a while and that he’s going for a run, hoping that he isn’t questioned about the weather. He trains his gaze on the floor, tries not to look like he’s sneaking around, even though he is.
Truth be told, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep doing this.
Every footstep feels heavier than the last, but he keeps going. By now, he’s certain he could walk this route with his eyes closed.
When he gets there, the door’s already off the latch, an action done through months of familiarity and countless clandestine meetings. He raps his knuckles on the door twice and then pushes it open, stepping inside. As soon as he’s shut the door behind him, he’s turned around by the shoulder and pushed gently against the door.
He reaches up to the collar of Shane’s shirt, pulling it towards him, as Shane’s palm presses against his cheek. Ryan thinks he could live in these moments forever. He thinks that he could spend the rest of his life inside this apartment, just him and Shane, ignoring the existence of the rest of the world outside. It would be so easy. And now, he finally understands the appeal of eloping.
A piercing tone rings from Shane’s pocket, vibrating violently against Ryan’s leg. For the first ten seconds, they both ignore it. But it’s insistent, refusing to be ignored. Ryan pulls back.
“Answer it.” He says, no annoyance or malice in his tone. Shane shakes his head, pushing the phone further into his pocket.
“Nah, it’ll ring out. That’s why I’ve got a voicemail.”
“You still check your voicemails? What are you, fifty?” Ryan teases and he sees a smile playing on Shane’s lips.
“Oh, is the Bergmeister into fifty year olds?” He jokes back, hooking his fingers through the loops on Ryan’s jeans and pulling his back away from the wall. Before he can think of a snarky reply, Shane’s lips are on him again. Even now, after months, he feels a whoosh fly up his ribcage, his heart leaping a little in his chest.
Barely a second passes before the phone rings again.
“Just answer it, so they’ll go away.” Ryan says and Shane frowns, answering the phone with one hand, whilst the other still sits on Ryan’s hip. He starts to rub little circles into his hip bone, absentmindedly. Ryan’s not sure if he even knows he’s doing it.
“I don’t think we need bread, I can double check? We definitely need eggs, though. Thanks baby.” He says and Ryan feels his blood run cold.
For a moment, he’d forgotten what it was they were doing here. But the realisation hits him like a freight train nonetheless. He feels his whole body tense up, the shame washing over him. Was this really the type of person he was?
“Shane,” He says, once he’s sure that Shane’s hung up. Shane hangs his head and sighs, and in that moment, Ryan knows he’s not the only one that’s been wracked with guilt the last few months.
“I know.” His thumb is still rubbing circles over the same point on Ryan’s hip. Without glancing down, Ryan rests his hand on top of Shane’s. “We need to talk about this, don’t we?”
It occurs to Ryan that through all of this, that’s the one thing they’ve somehow avoided. Somehow, they’ve stuck to their usual banter and never strayed to the really serious, long-term stuff. Whenever they were together, it was like they forgot about their own lives and everything in them. All that existed was that apartment and for Ryan, Shane.
Intertwining their fingers, Shane walks through to the living room and sits down on the sofa, Ryan following closely behind. They sit in silence for a minute or two, neither of them sure of how to start this conversation or navigate this uncharted territory.
“I don’t wanna lose you.” Shane says and immediately, Ryan thinks it’s all unfair. For Ryan, this is it. He doesn’t have anyone if he doesn’t have Shane, he’s been all in since the beginning.
But he knows Shane will be fine if Ryan walks out the door right now and doesn’t come back. He knows he’ll get an invitation through the mail in a few years for a wedding and a family Christmas card a couple of years after that with their children posing in holiday sweaters.
“Same here.” Ryan breathes, feeling like his heart is beating ten times slower than it was minutes ago, as though it could stop at any minute. “What are we gonna do?” Ryan says, not meaning for it to come out sounding as choked as it does.
“I don’t know, baby.” Shane murmurs. It’s weird to see him be so serious.
“Please don’t call me baby.” Ryan says, the ‘you call her baby’ left unspoken. But Shane closes his eyes and nods, seeming to understand why. Ryan feels himself edging ever closer to breaking and he’s not sure he could put himself back together after this. “I think this might have been a mistake, Shane.”
“What? Ryan, you can’t seriously think that.” Shane says, his voice still calm and collected, even though his expression looks panicked. “Ryan, I--”
He cuts himself off, refusing to say the words. And Ryan feels his heart plummet to his feet. Suddenly, he feels stripped bare. He feels stupid. So stupid.
He pulls his hand away abruptly, like he touched something unbearably hot, and stands up, almost certain his heart has finally stopped in his chest.
“You what?” Ryan asks, looking Shane dead in the eyes. Surely, he’s not asking that much by wanting to hear Shane say it out loud and admit that it wasn’t all in Ryan’s head.
“Ryan, don’t do this. Please .” He pleads and Ryan wishes he could go back to two weeks ago, when this conversation never even crossed his mind, two minutes ago even. But he doesn’t miss the way Shane completely avoids the question.
And just like that, the pent-up cocktail of emotions from the past few months push their way to the forefront.
“I love you, Shane!” Ryan shouts, no longer caring if the entirety of LA could hear them. He could almost feel the anger rising up inside him, a heat travelling from his sneakers up to the hairs on his head. “Tell me you don’t feel it too.”
There’s a beat of silence. Ryan feels as though his heart is going to jump out of his throat and onto the floor between them.
“I can’t.” Shane whispers, even though his hesitation already confirmed Ryan’s suspicions. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, rustling it and styling it into an unruly nest on his head. “I do. This is a mess. ”
“Glad we agree on something.” Ryan says, his voice now at a more reasonable volume. Shane’s surprised to hear venom behind the words. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, Shane.” He doesn’t want to have to spell it out for Shane, but it’s looking like he’s going to have to.
Cringing at the words on his tongue, he bites the bullet, speaking the question that’s been hanging over them for months now.
“Why aren’t we together?”
“ Ryan.” Shane murmurs, as though Ryan’s the one being ridiculous, as though them being together is so unfathomable. “I can’t.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Shane.” Ryan whispers, sounding more defeated than Shane’s ever heard him. “Is there any chance of you leaving?” He asks, his voice betraying him and shaking a little. The question hangs heavy in the air, unanswered for far longer than it should be. The sadness is replaced by anger when he next speaks, saying, “Answer me.”
Shane looks down at the ground for a moment, before forcing himself to look Ryan in the eyes.
“No,” Shane admits and he can see the moment Ryan’s face crumples. And then, the moment directly after when he nods and puts on a brave face. But even his mask is cracking around the edges, the tears silently escaping his eyes, his eyebrows frowning.
And Shane wishes he could take it all back, not just the ‘no’, but all the months before along with it. All the times he asked Ryan to do the unreasonable and sneak around, all the times their friendship was pushed beyond the point of return.
But more than anything, he wishes he could say ‘yes’ and still be telling the truth.
Ryan steps forward into Shane’s personal space and he holds his breath, waiting to be yelled at or punched. At this point, he feels like he deserves it.
But instead, Ryan leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. Just the slightest brush and he promised himself he’d pull away.
But Ryan’s hands are twisting into Shane’s hair and tugging him closer. And Shane’s arms are wrapped around his waist and holding their bodies flush against one another.
It’s desperate, as though they can’t get close enough to each other, as though there isn’t enough time left, as though it’s doomsday and the meteor is about to hit. It’s knowing everything’s fucked and beyond repair, but clinging on hopelessly for as long as they can.
“Goodbye, Shane.” Ryan says as their foreheads press against one another, holding his resolve. Shane can’t even say goodbye back, through fear that if he says it, it’ll finally become real.
And just like that, he’s stepping away and slipping out of reach. Shane wants to chase him, wants to pull him back into his bubble and never let go.
But instead, he stands perfectly still, his heart ripped out of his chest, feeling like he’s bleeding out and biting his tongue to stop the tears from overflowing onto his cheeks.
Ryan steps out onto the street, pulling the door shut and finally allowing his mask to cave in completely. He feels like he’s drowning, like the tears are coming too quickly for his body to fend them off, overwhelming him, like he can’t take in air quick enough. He thinks he’s finally done it, gone and ruined himself for a man who couldn’t even suck it up and be with him.
But as he’s looking both ways, he sees her, grocery bags in hand, walking towards their apartment with a small smile on her face. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and for a moment, Ryan thinks she sees him, stepping out of her apartment.
He pulls up his hood and turns his head away, walking in the other direction.