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The gunshot echoed through the night. Ryan felt something hot running through his arm, where the bite seemed to cure itself. But at the moment, all he could think of was the werewolf in front of them. It had lashed out when the silver had hit it. Now, it was sprawled on his back, his head and arm hanging off the burned cage. Ryan turned away. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see the remains of the boy that had unwillingly and unknowingly brought them so much pain. He had just been a kid. It was all too much.
“Please, let’s just… let’s just go before w- we have to see him like that in human form.” He did not want to know. He did not want to see it. The night had been horrible enough as it was.
“It’s too late for that,” he heard Laura say. This woman had nerves of steel. Facing and shooting Silas, and here he was, afraid and sickened to even look. Very slowly, he moved. The smell of the blood clinging to each of them made his stomach churn, but it was the boy who, laying where the werewolf had been seconds ago, made the contents of his stomach come up.
It was gruesome, and he couldn’t understand how the others just stood there. He backed away. He needed to get away. Thankfully, the car was closer to Dog Boys' cage than he expected. Albeit weak-kneed and sick to his stomach, the walk back felt hours shorter. With a groan, he doubled over, clutching his knees. If he was going to throw up, he wanted to have the decency to not do it inside the car. He stood there, eyes shut tight, but it wouldn't happen. God, this was pathetic. He was tired. His limbs were like Jell-O and his brain felt like someone had tried to perform a lobotomy on him.
He felt something rest heavily between his shoulder blades. His eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his ears as he whirled around. But it was only Travis. Realising his mistake, he backed away, hands held out in front of him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you’re… doing alright.” Letting out a breath, Ryan nodded. Compared to everything that had happened, he was in peak condition right now. How ironic.
Still holding the gun, Laura side-stepped Travis, motioning to the car. “We should head to the lodge. See who came back,” she trailed off.
Ryan knew what she was implying. To see who was still alive. If he was honest with himself, the thought of returning to the lodge was more frightening than facing Silas. Sure, he had been in great danger, but now that he was safe? He didn’t want to return, only to find out that others had lost their lives. That their biggest efforts hadn’t been enough.
He thought of Dylan. He had left him with Kaitlyn. God, they should have never split up. If he'd just made him come along, he would’ve been safe! And now he was throwing up. Only managing to turn away so as not to spray Laura and Travis, he doubled over, emptying his stomach onto the road. Well, there it went. His dignity on the concrete along with the beers drunk on the previous day. The day that seemed poles apart from the night. Maybe letting go this way was better, but what did he know.
He saw Laura give him a crooked smile as Travis went to sit in the driver’s seat. He didn’t know if it was the best idea for him to drive, seeing as he had gotten his head bashed into the car windows as well as he had, but reasoning seemed beyond him at the moment. “Better?” Laura stood in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his hunched shoulders. He nodded again. After all, what else was he supposed to do?
Both Laura and Ryan climbed into the backseat of the car. Silence lay heavy in the air, but none of them talked. The engine roared to life, a sound much too loud for the now quiet night. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to give himself the rest he deserved after a night so long and dangerous. But he couldn’t.
In his inner eye, he could see flashes of sharp, bared teeth, long tongues, and bare and bloodied extremities. Nick exploding into a werewolf. A chainsaw cutting a wrist. He thought of the camp slogan. What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. He felt like all of them would have something else to say about that now.
He thought of Dylan and guilt pierced him like a well-aimed arrow. He had cut off his hand. He had done it. It was his fault. He tried to get the image out of his head, but it wouldn’t budge. What if he couldn’t even tell him how sorry he was? What if something worse awaited him upon his return?
He would do anything to make it right. He needed to make it right, however impossible it was. He needed to see him. He needed to feel him, make sure he was still Dylan. That he was alive.
He felt the air tighten around him, tears pricking at his eyes. But he had to stay optimistic. He wouldn’t let those thoughts consume him. Dylan was smart. Dylan was resilient. He had to be alive.
He looked at Laura. Her face was set. Her jaws clenched together, hands balled into fists. He remembered. She was scared for someone, too. She was just as tense as he was, but once again, she was able to keep herself together. Unlike him. It didn’t matter.
Trying to distract himself from his nerves, he drank Travis's stale water and tried counting the passing trees. It was an unfruitful endeavour, sure, but a distraction nonetheless. The sky was changing colours, bathing the treetops in reds, oranges and yellows. It was peaceful in a bizarre way. The world continued turning, replacing the ugly with the beautiful. It felt so wrong.
They were driving along a dirt road he knew very well, and he felt himself becoming tense again. They had to be alive. They had to.
Driving up to the lodge, he saw them. A group of battered-looking people. But it wasn't all of them. He could see Emma and Abi standing arm in arm, near the hood of the van. Kaitlyn seemed to examine someone sitting next to it. He hoped with all his might that it was Dylan. They were talking amongst themselves, but he could spot their worried expressions immediately.
Before Travis had even stopped the car, Ryan wrenched the door open and jumped out. With his heart in his throat, he ran at Emma and Abi. Who was with them? Were they still alive?
He almost barrelled into them but managed to stop in time. He peered over Abi’s shoulder, and the sight that met him made his heart stop.
Propped up against the van was Dylan. His head leant against the van door, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. His bandaged arm was in his lap, with Kaitlyn squatting next to it, trying to cushion it with a towel. Ryan let out a fusion of a sigh of relief and a moan of pain. Sidestepping the girls, he dropped to his knees. He looked at Kaitlyn with a pleading expression. What was going on with Dylan? What had happened?
She met his eyes. He could see the relief in her expression. He clearly hadn’t been the only one who had been worried about the number of people that had yet to return to the lodge. She took his hand, squeezing it firmly, and looked at him intensely. “Thank god you’re here, where’s Laura? Is she okay? Tell me you have a phone with service on you? We need to call an ambulance immediately.” The anxiety in her voice was palpable. Padding himself down, he handed her his phone.
The screen was cracked and pieces of it were missing, but it turned on when Kaitlyn took it. He motioned over his shoulder, gazing at Dylan. He looked like a mess. Just like Kaitlyn, he was covered in blood.
“Laura’s okay, she’s good. She’s in the car with Travis.” he hesitated. He wanted to know more about Dylan's state, but at the same time, he didn’t want to hear how badly he might be doing. “What happened to him? Why is he not talking?” He questioned Kaitlyn. He couldn’t help the note of accusation that came with his question, but he couldn’t help himself. He just looked at her pleadingly, hoping she could see how worried he was. How desperately he needed answers.
She stood up. “He was okay-ish when we walked here. Well, considering everything that happened…” she trailed off. “But he's lost a lot of blood.” Ryan looked at her. For once, she was taller than him. It felt odd, and he willed her to elaborate. “I think the Adrenaline and the pain medication are wearing off as well. We…” she paused, looking uncomfortable. “We killed one of the werewolves. In the lodge. We didn’t want to stay inside once the sun came up. So we thought this would be the best place for everyone to return to. Dylan just sat down and sort of didn’t speak anymore. Just asked me to get something soft for his arm and to keep an eye out for the others. To tell him if someone else showed up.” She chuckled silently. “As if I was going to do that when he looks like he’s ready to pass out.” He pushed the thought of a dead body in the lodge away and glanced at Dylan with a pained expression. He gently touched his cheek. At least he was still alive. He could be fine.
“I let him rest. We’ll try to contact an ambulance and the police. You take care of him, okay?” Kaitlyn squeezed his shoulder, and she and the girls retreated to check on Laura and Travis. Ryan just nodded absentmindedly.
Very carefully, he shuffled forwards to sit down, resting his head on one of his knees. He felt odd sitting there, just staring while the other was seemingly blacked out. He had tried his best to patch him up in the radio shack, but had it been enough? He let his gaze wander over the other man’s frame. During the two months at camp, he had never been able to look at him as freely as he could now, but instead of savouring the moment, he only worried more, taking in scratches and gashes. This wasn’t how he had imagined they’d spend their last morning at the lodge.
Trying his best not to let the worries wash over him, he focused on Dylan’s face. Even covered in blood, he was terribly attractive. Even with blood on him. And my goodness, still so cute. He didn’t know how else to describe it. He didn’t know what it was, but Ryan had been intrigued from day one. Tall, dark-haired, funny. Those things usually caught his eye, but the obvious flirting had done it. He couldn’t say he hadn’t been flattered. Maybe a bit confused at first, but in time, he'd started looking forward to it. The smiles, the jokes, the effort to always include him.
But only recently it had clicked that Dylan was more than just a flirt to him. He was so much more. He made him feel safe and at home. He made him laugh, even with the dumbest jokes. And there was more to him than what he’d gotten to know in the past two months. Tonight, he had seen more. He had seen underneath the carefree exterior and met the smart, fiercely protective and brave man he truly was. And he wanted more. He wanted to spend time with him and get to know him properly. He wanted to know what made him happy, hear him ramble about things he was passionate about. Tease him, shut him up with kisses, hold him… be with him. Would he still have the chance now, or had he missed it?
His breath hitched. Dylan was scrunching up his nose. He was conscious and his voice was rough. The usual teasing tone, however, was still present. “Hey, uh. I don’t mean to be rude, but do you always stare like that? I can’t say I don’t mind having such a good-looking stalker, but don’t you think it’s a bit obvious? You’re not very discreet.” Ryan cricked his head with how fast he tried to look anywhere but Dylan’s face. He could practically feel the wink and triumphant smirk the other was giving him. Awkwardly muttering, his eyes roamed the ground and landed on Dylan’s bandaged arm. The hint of a smile was wiped off his face immediately. Guilt and worry flooded him.
“How is your arm?” he asked.
“A lot lighter than a couple of hours ago, that’s for sure. Hurts like hell, too. But hey, it’s a trick to lose a ton of weight at once." He winked at Ryan. "We should do a leg next.” His stomach turned over at the thought of it. For goodness’ sake, didn’t he care about himself at all?
“Don’t even joke about that. Just don’t move it. Or in general, don’t move. At least until an ambulance gets here. You don’t look too good right now.” Dylan grimaced, frowning at him.
“Uh, yeah, got it. No moving, no talking. Just gonna sit here and wait ‘til I pass out eventually.” He rolled his eyes and Ryan frowned at the resentment in his voice.
“What? No, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to do anything that might make this worse!” Dylan scoffed quietly. “And joking is going to make it worse?” Ryan swallowed. “I- I mean no. But this is bad, Dyl. I am worried about you. Fuck, I did this. I can’t do anything to make it better and you’re not even mad. You’re joking about it! You didn’t even have to lose a hand - you could have survived as a werewolf and been cured now. You’d still have both your hands, but you don’t! And I don’t want anything else to happen to you. I’m - fuck. I don’t want to joke about you being hurt. I wish I could… I don’t know, man. I’m scared for you, Dyl."
Dylan looked at him for a long moment. “Hey, look, I appreciate you being worried about me. But what else am I supposed to do besides joke about this shit? I feel like I got dragged through hell. I’ve been worrying all night long. Hell, I still am. I don’t know where the others are. I don’t know who else survived. If you have a better way of dealing with all of this, I’m all ears. But I don’t.” He looked off into the woods. “I’m not gonna die, Ryan. The bleeding stopped, I think. It mostly hurts. So, please. Talk to me about anything else. Really, I mean it. Any distraction is welcome.”
At any other given moment, Ryan would have jumped at the idea of having free rein over distracting Dylan. But this wasn’t the time to indulge any of his fantasies. He tried to humour him, but it came out a lot more strained than he had meant it to. “Any kind of distraction, huh?” He glanced at Dylan with a twisted smile. “Did you think that all the way through?” He only got a shit-eating grin in return, and Ryan groaned halfheartedly.
“I said what I said.” It was sorely tempting to just give himself up to him. But instead, he stood up and sat down next to Dylan. He didn’t look at him but made sure to lean against him. He was warm, and next to him he felt safe. Odd, perhaps this crush of his had been going on longer than he had thought? Or the night's events had brought them closer together. Maybe both.
“I don’t know, I don’t want to do anything that might be too much… We are probably both in shock - I don’t want you to regret anything…” He trailed off, feebly. He stared ahead, too embarrassed, and heard a low chuckle. Despite himself, he turned his head, only to find Dylan centimetres away, already looking at him. “Do you really think that I would regret kissing you? Should you’ve lost your memory, we already kissed.” Quietly he added, “I haven’t regretted that.”
And Ryan couldn’t look away. He was transfixed by brown eyes looking at him softly. They were too easy to get lost in. “It was a dare. Maybe you didn’t-,” he whispered, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Dylan’s lips met his own. It was bliss, it was ecstasy. So different from the campfire kiss.
Very carefully, he kissed back, cautiously cradling Dylan’s face. He tasted like blood. It was pretty disgusting, but he wasn’t going to let go until the other did. His heart was fluttering around his ribcage and he felt like he was in a freefall. It was the best thing he had felt all summer.
They pulled apart, and Ryan couldn’t have said how much time had passed. The moment was perfect, pure. He could feel each breath that ghosted in between them. The scrape of dried, bloody hair between their foreheads. They stayed leaning against each other, the warming sun engulfing them. Eyes closed to the horrors of the night, in their own safe world. Everything was far away. Sounds from the others deadened as if by water.
He was the first to break the silence, despite himself. “Do you still have your phone?” Confusedly, brown eyes opened, looking at him. He chuckled. “How about some music? I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have something for watching the sunrise. With blood all over us. Waiting on the cops to arrest us, probably.” He got a snort that morphed into a cough in response. “Hey, you okay? I can look through your pockets if that makes it easier?” He asked worriedly. He pulled his legs up to his chest, sitting up. But he was met with a half-amused, half-annoyed look.
“Buy me a drink before getting handsy, mister. I’m not that easy. And I can get it, hold on.” With a satisfied grin, Dylan pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I think I’ve got something that’s good?”
Again, Ryan was taken aback by the shyness in Dylan’s voice. But already taken in, he nodded curiously. “I don’t listen to them with others usually. Sort of my safe-space-music. If you know what I mean. So if you don’t like it…” He looked like a puppy exploring its new home - scared but excited and hopeful.
“I’ve gotten to know your taste in music quite well over the summer. If I would want anyone to show me new music, it would be you.” He watched him fondly as he pressed play, letting the first bass notes wash over him. And there it was, the sheepish grin that Ryan had grown so accustomed to seeing and loving.