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“if i saw you today,
i’d ask how your momma’s doing,
and your family in st. louis,
are you happy with the life you’re choosing?
i’d tell you breaking up was stupid,
didn’t know all that i’d be losing,
if i saw you today.”
- if i saw you today, abigail barlow
He’s driving to the grocery store when he sees the building, familiar but not all at once.
Normally, he takes a more deliberate route, dodging this street completely. But today, Ryan had been on autopilot and somehow, he’d ended up driving down this street.
He sees the red letters, above the entrance of the place he used to call a second home.
It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of his car.
“Ryan, what’s this? You know you’re going to be promoted next month, right? You and Shane are this close to becoming Senior Producers and you’re leaving ?” His manager asks, incredulous, as she threw his resignation letter on her desk. Ryan tries not to flinch too hard at Shane’s name.
One of them had to leave and it didn’t look like Shane was going anywhere anytime soon. But it’s not like Ryan had given him the option, putting together his resignation and handing it in within a week of them calling it quits.
Besides, he knows it’d be better if he left. He knows it’d raise less questions, since he wouldn’t be leaving a girlfriend behind. He knows that if he stayed he’d just see Shane everywhere. He’d feel his absence as his desk sat empty beside his. He’d feel it whenever there was an announcement or a beyond boring meeting and there was no one beside him to crack jokes to.
It’d be easier on the both of them this way.
“You know Unsolved is one of our biggest shows here, what is it you’re missing? What are they offering you? A pay rise? A bigger team? More travel budget? Any of that can be arranged, Ryan.” She says, her fingers pressing into her desk until they started to turn white from the pressure.
There’s almost a pleading in her voice. Ryan thinks it might have worked, if the circumstances were different. If his mind hadn’t already been made up.
“I’m sorry. I’ll have my desk cleared out and my projects finished by the end of the week.” Ryan says, hating the way his voice sounded defeated, even to his own ears. He forces himself to look his boss in the eyes and is surprised to find sympathy there, as if she can see right through him and right to the root of this.
She nods once.
“If you’re sure.” She says, reaching her hand out towards him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Ryan. I wish you all the best.”
He shakes her hand, stands up and leaves her office without looking back.
All of his belongings packed into a cardboard box, Ryan walks to his car.
The stereotype isn’t lost on him, thinking that this is exactly how the movies told this part of the story. He remembers Jerry Maguire with Tom Cruise’s dramatic exit, his storm out in front of the entire office with a goldfish in hand. Suddenly, he’s grateful that his resignation has gone as smoothly as it had.
It’s not until he’s in the car park, a few steps away from his car, that he’s confronted.
“Ryan?” Hearing that voice behind him feels like a sucker punch. He thinks this is how it must feel to be doubled over in pain, knocked out in the middle of a fight.
After taking a deep breath, he keeps walking, his footsteps only faltering once.
“ Ryan!” Shane yells, sounding much closer than before. Ryan trains his eyes on the ground, grips onto the box a little tighter and keeps walking.
But Shane’s nothing if not persistent.
Suddenly, when Ryan looks up, Shane’s in front of him, blocking his way. He’s slightly breathless from running to catch up.
“Ryan, what the hell ?” Shane says and he sounds almost angry, which sets Ryan off right away.
“ No , you don’t get to be mad at me for this, Shane.” He says, a little louder than he’d meant to. He watches Shane swallow, watches him flinch as though the words hit him square in the face.
“You can’t just leave, Ry.” Shane whispers, taking a step towards Ryan. He raises his hands a little, like he’s going to place them on top of Ryan’s or take the box off of him. But he decides against it, his arms stopping mid-air, before they fall back to his side.
“It’s the right decision, Shane. We couldn’t work together after this, you know that.” Ryan says, standing his ground. He thinks he’d feel proud of how even and sure his voice sounds, if he didn’t feel so devastated.
“What about--” Shane cuts himself off, obviously grasping at straws for a reason that Ryan should stay. “What about Unsolved? That’s your baby.”
“They’ll find someone new to host with you or they’ll end it. It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be the same now anyway.” As he’s saying it, he realises just how true it is. They’d never be able to banter like they had before, at least not for a long time. The shoots would be awkward at best, the episodes would be mediocre or bad. It’s best to be merciful and kill it now.
“What about Buzzfeed?” Shane says, his voice coming out shaky. He says it as if they haven’t had multiple conversations about what they’re going to do after they leave, the possible company they would start together, all the projects they’d make without having to get their boss’ approval. Ryan can’t help but scoff.
“It’s just a job, dude. We were gonna leave anyway, remember?” And all of a sudden, Ryan feels like he’s had enough of talking about this with Shane. He steps around him and carries on walking back to his car. He can see the bumper sticking out from behind a smaller car beside it, he’s so close.
But Shane grabs his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks again.
“Ryan, I-” Shane says, cutting himself off yet again. Ryan chuckles but the laugh is empty and sort of sad. After all this, Shane still can’t say it.
He shrugs off Shane’s hand and gets into his car.
Desperately trying to ground himself, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. It’s been years since he’s called himself a Buzzfeed employee but his time there is still fresh in his mind, as though it only ended yesterday.
It’s been years since he deleted Shane’s number and unfollowed him on every social media he could remember. He even went as far as to archive all evidence that they were ever friends from his Instagram. But he’d never had the heart to delete them. The pictures still take up space on his camera roll and he looks at them more often than he’d like to admit.
After one glance, he focuses his attention back on the road, trying to push out any unwelcome memories. But it doesn’t work. He doesn’t even realise he’s reached the grocery store, until he’s pulling into an empty parking space and putting the car in park.
For once, he’s glad that he took the time to type out a shopping list and put it in his notes, because he can’t remember why he’s even going to the shop anymore. All he can think about is the way things ended.
He should be over it by now, right? It’s been two years, roughly. There’s no doubt in his mind that Shane’s moved on. The texts and missed calls stopped after a month and - while Ryan had always been annoyed to see them - when they stopped, it was almost worse. It felt like it was definitely over. Whilst he was still getting texts from Shane, he could imagine that this was nothing more than a break, a little blip in the road.
But when the texts stopped, he knew there was no point holding out hope anymore.
He picks up a basket and heads towards the bread aisle, searching for the first item on his list.
It’s a Tuesday night, so the store is pretty quiet, the weekly shoppers sat at home with their fridges full. But there’s a quiet hum to the place and Ryan’s glad for the distraction, pulling him out of his thoughts for a while, if even just for a moment.
He tries to be quick and efficient, instead of strolling around. He only goes down the aisles he needs to, grabbing his stuff and heading for the next thing on his list. It’s tough but he focuses on his upcoming projects, trying to ignore any determined thoughts that keep trying to creep to the front.
And it’s all going well, until he sees a silhouette that makes him stop still, right in the middle of the aisle.
Because there, at the end of the aisle, with his back to Ryan, is a figure that looks almost identical to Shane.
Straight away, Ryan decides he’s seeing things. He’s seen guys with hair a little too long and unruly, men whose dress sense was modelled after crazy history professors and thought they were Shane before. He lives in LA, he’s surrounded by hipster-types.
But this one feels different. The slouch of his shoulders is a little too close to what Ryan remembers and the outfit looks like something Ryan’s seen Shane wear before.
There’s a pang in his chest, as maybe-Shane turns to the side and Ryan’s fears are confirmed.
His first thought is that he doesn’t know what to do now. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined this before, bumping into Shane in the middle of LA. But he’d been sure that Shane had moved back to the Midwest last year after a well-meaning text from Kelsey, and so he’d never fully prepared himself for this moment.
He could run? Turn around, pretend he hasn’t seen him and walk out the store. He could go about life like nothing had ever happened. But he knows, deep down, he’d always be left wondering what would’ve happened. He would never get closure on this moment.
He goes to walk towards Shane, but it’s like his legs are weighed down, too heavy to move. He’s not even sure what he’d say if he were to just walk up to him.
So, he just stands there, in the middle of the aisle, barely five strides away from Shane, with a half-full basket in his hand, feeling like his world is disintegrating around him.
When the shelves start closing in on him, he isn’t fully sure that it’s in his head. That’s how messed up today has been.
After what feels like a century, Shane turns around, putting two tins of something in his basket with a casual expression on his face.
Ryan can pinpoint the exact moment he looks up and sees him. Immediately, he knows it’s a memory that’ll haunt him for years to come. He watches as Shane’s face crumbles, his jaw falling open and exhaling harshly, like he’s got the wind knocked out of him. He watches him blink rapidly, watches his grip loosen on his basket for a moment, before he remembers that he’s supposed to be holding it.
“Ryan,” Shane breathes, sounding close to disbelief. Ryan’s lips pull up slightly into a sad smile.
He watches Shane hesitate. It’s like he’s approaching a wild animal, scared that one wrong move will send Ryan running the other way. Surprising himself, Ryan closes the distance between them and walks over to Shane.
“Hi,” He says, the word latching itself onto an exhale and coming out shaky. There’s a pause that stretches, neither of them knowing what they’re supposed to say next.
Without even realising he’s doing it, Ryan’s eyes scan Shane’s face, like he’s looking for all the changes two years apart have left behind. He notices the bags under Shane’s eyes are more prominent, that there’s more facial hair than the last time they were together. He notices Shane’s hair held back by a bandana, a few strands too long, peeking out over the top.
Ryan tries to memorise the way his face looks right now, tries to take a mental image and print it into his brain, not sure whether he’ll ever see Shane again.
“Can we talk?” Shane says. For a moment, Ryan fights with the idea of telling him to go fuck himself. After all, Ryan owes him nothing, not anymore. But he’s never had an instinct for self-preservation. And he’s never been able to say no to Shane.
So, he nods. And they head to the check-out.
“Your place, thirty minutes?” Shane says and Ryan nods again, wondering what the hell he’s got himself into.
Ryan’s just putting away his last few things when there’s a knock at the door. He closes the fridge and goes to answer the door, not too sure what to expect. He tries to keep his expectations in check. Most probably, nothing will come of this, they’ll go back to being strangers that bump into each other every few years. Best case scenario, they exchange numbers and start doing the road back to being friends again.
Ryan steps to the side and lets Shane in, like they’ve done a million times before, like nothing ever changed.
He’s about to direct Shane and tell him where the living room is, but Shane’s already heading there, like it’s still second nature to him. He’s at home as he goes to sit on the couch. It hurts. Ryan fights the urge to look away.
“How’s work?” Shane asks, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere. But Ryan’s not sure he has the stomach for small talk right now. Everything’s too natural, too familiar that it’s suffocating.
“Can we not?” Ryan says. He glances down at his hands but resists the urge to shrink in on himself. He’s never been one to back down from a fight, so why should he start now? “What did you come here to say, Shane?”
“We broke up, you know.” Shane admits and for a moment, Ryan thinks he’s being cruel and talking about them, stating the obvious and twisting the knife. But then, he realises he’s talking about her. “Six months after you left. She never said it but I think she knew. At least, she knew that I loved you.”
Ryan’s so focused on the fact that they broke up that he almost misses it. The declaration. Only two years late.
But then, when he does hear it, he gets stuck on the past tense, another wound, just a little deeper than the others. He thinks he finally understands the saying death by a thousand cuts.
“I was, um,” Shane murmurs, his gaze trained on Ryan’s hands, folded in his lap. “I was a mess after, she said she wasn’t stupid and that I needed to think about what I wanted because it obviously wasn’t her. That I hadn’t been happy for months and she knew why.”
The words hang heavy in the air, as they just sit there in silence for a moment or two.
“God, I screwed up.” Shane rakes a hand down his face. It feels like they’re edging into dangerous territory. “Ryan, I--”
“ Please ,” Ryan hushes, the word barely audible. He doesn’t want Shane to extend an olive branch, just to take it back a few hours later. He’s not sure he could go back to pushing down the feelings and trying to ignore them, not if Shane said those words.
“Are you happy?” Shane asks, sounding similar to how he did during the break up, deflated and a little broken. “If you’re happy, I’ll shut up and I’ll go.”
“You don’t get to ask that, Shane. You don’t get to do this to me and show up at my door and ask if I’m happy. ” The word tastes bitter in his mouth, he spits it out like it’s poisonous. Shane’s eyes meet his and Ryan sees the unshed tears threatening to spill over Shane’s cheeks.
He wants nothing more than to reach over and wipe them away before they fall, but he can’t do that anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I should never have put you in that position but I was terrified because you’re,” Shane says, blinking rapidly. He pauses, not sure whether he’s allowed to speak the words on his tongue. His eyes search Ryan’s and whatever answer he’s looking for, he finds it. “You’re it for me, Ry. I loved you. I still love you.”
Ryan winces at the words. He’s been waiting to hear them for so long and now they’re out there in the open, he thinks he’d rather them be unspoken than said like this.
“Don’t say something you don’t mean, Shane.” He says softly and hates himself for sounding so weak.
“I mean it. I nearly called so many times but I didn’t want to keep forcing myself into your life and bringing up old shit and,” He stops again, like he’s a train going off the rails, trying to correct the route and get back on track. “I know it’s been two years and if you’ve moved on, if you’re happy, I’ll go. But I wanted you to know I’m sorry. I was so stupid and I was terrified of losing you, I still am. I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner.” Shane looks down and a tear escapes, running down his cheek.
Against his better judgement, against every voice in his head screaming that this is a bad idea, Ryan reaches across and wipes the tear away with his thumb. His hand lingers, holding Shane’s cheek and after a moment, Shane reaches up and covers Ryan’s hand with his own, leaning into the touch.
“Please say something,” Shane says, his voice hushed.
“I,” Ryan hesitates and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been happy since the day I left, I think. You know I love you, I think I always have. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t.” Ryan says and Shane’s face crumples again, the weight of how hurt Ryan must’ve been hitting him, as more tears fall. If they were on better terms, Ryan would crack a joke about how this is the most emotion Shane’s ever shown or the robot has feelings . But he bites his tongue.
“We’re idiots, what a mess ,” Shane sighs and Ryan can’t help but agree. It could have been so easy if Shane had just ended things and dated Ryan properly. But instead, they’re left with this. An inbetween, where they both desperately want to be together, but things are still very not okay . A purgatory, where they’re left in limbo, where they’re tiptoeing around each other, unsure of how to act, even though Shane was once the person Ryan knew better than anyone else.
There’s so many things Ryan wants to say but he’s not sure there are even words to describe how he’s feeling.
When he looks away from Shane’s eyes, Ryan realises they’ve been edging towards each other this entire time. He’s nearly sitting in Shane’s lap, their faces merely inches apart. His gaze drifts, looking down at Shane’s lips.
Ryan closes the distance, pressing his lips against Shane’s carefully, only for a split second.
But when he pulls back, Shane’s lips chase his and Ryan gasps. He’s not sure who leaned back in first but suddenly, they’re crashing together and all the hesitation is gone. It’s almost like they’re back to how they were, Shane’s hands in Ryan’s hair and Ryan’s hands on either side of Shane’s face.
A thousand memories flash through Ryan’s head at light speed. Popcorn food fights, a million movie nights, staying up talking all night in hotel rooms for Unsolved, joking around in the office, wheeling his chair to Shane’s desk just to talk to him, secret meetings in Shane’s bedroom.
It’s familiar but brand new, something real that Ryan knows they no longer need to hide. For a moment, he lets himself hope. He gives in to the hope that they could really make a go of things. That this could be for keeps.
He pulls Shane a little closer.
“I’m such an idiot,” Ryan says, a laugh following after his words. Shane shakes his head, leaning his forehead against Ryan’s.
“ I’m an idiot.” Shane counters.
“Yeah, you are.” Ryan says, but there’s no heat to it. And then, they’re both laughing, not really sure why. It feels like the pressure has been lifted off of Ryan’s chest and he’s high on the relief of it all. They’re going to try this for real.
“I’m not letting you go, you know.” Shane says, coming off so sincere that Ryan’s taken aback. He plants one little kiss on Shane’s nose.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Ryan asks.
“As long as you make popcorn.” Shane says, matter of factly.
“You only want me for my popcorn?” Ryan teases, pretending to be hurt. He feels almost giddy that they’ve got their rhythm back, that they’re able to joke around again and that the air is a little clearer. He knows there’s still going to be rough patches and things they need to fix, but it feels like they’ve taken the toughest leap. And for today, that’s enough.
“That’s the only reason I’m here!” Shane jokes. Intending to go and make the popcorn, Ryan stands up and starts to walk to the kitchen, when two large arms are wrapped around his waist, pulling him back down to the couch. He lets out a surprised laugh, as Shane plants little kisses up his neck. He turns around in Shane’s arms to face him and finds his grin mirrored onto Shane’s face. Ryan pulls the collar of Shane’s shirt towards him, pressing their lips together.
Popcorn can wait.