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The room was spinning.
Not in a fun, what’ll happen next, this is sorta cool way, either. No, the room was spinning in a what the fuck is going to happen next-earth shattering-who could ever recover from this way.
It seemed to happen in slow motion— just like in the radio hut. Between the bite and the chainsaw and the decisions that would alter life as they knew it— but this was so, so much worse.
The words that left Kaitlyn’s mouth were the worst sequence he could ever imagine. Ryan spent god knows how long just staring into the space where her words hang, waiting for the moment she would take them back.
But as she looked at him, face pale and grief-stricken, eyes pouring out tears that held a weight he couldn’t process, he knew that it was the truth.
Dylan was gone.
Ryan had lost him.
He lost him before he ever even got to really have him.
***
In the Hackett office
“You’ve really got the whole mysterious, brooding hottie thing down, you know.”
Ryan looks up from his place leaning on the wall of Mr. H’s office. He’s not sure what to say, or why the tall boy in front of him mentioned it. “Hottie?”
Dylan dismisses his question. “So, what’s happening for you after this? School? Work?”
Ryan goes along with the rollercoaster of stumbling words. “Uh… yeah… Maybe.”
Dylan nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Girlfriend, back home?”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “No, not exactly.”
He can see that Dylan wants to say something else. Can feel the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. It’d be kinda cute if he didn’t find Dylan so strange.
“…Boyfriend?” The pause is thick, and Ryan almost laughs at the curious and somewhat hopeful expression on Dylan’s face.
“Free agent.” He says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
Dylan seems to decompress at that. “Cool! Me too. I mean- yeah. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Careful, Casanova. Might just think you have a thing for me with all this questioning.” The response in deadpan, but somewhere in Ryan, he hopes the other boy can hear the amusement.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing that you could think, honestly.”
Before Ryan can say anything else, Dylan walks over to the wall outlet, unplugging their phones. “Full charge. Let’s rock and roll, baby.”
And he’s out of the room before Ryan can make sense of the electricity running through his stomach.
***
At the campfire
Emma’s dare hangs in the air in front of Ryan for approximately ten seconds before he jokes, “I’m guessing both is off the table?”
And to be Frank, he wasn’t telling the truth when he said that. Yes, Kaitlyn is beautiful and fiery and yeah, maybe in the beginning of the summer he had an attraction towards her— but now his thoughts are clouded with a certain too-tall, eccentric, bad joke having boy that confuses the hell out him.
So when the words, “Dylan, you wanna do this?” fall out his mouth with haste, he hopes to whatever entity is listening that Dylan’s not-so-subtle flirting a couple hours ago wasn’t just a joke bit.
Surprisingly (to Ryan and literally no one else) Dylan has a giddy smile on his face as he stands from the log. He makes shy eye contact with Ryan before he’s suddenly in front of him, looking down at Ryan with those big, mischievous eyes.
And fuck if Ryan doesn’t feel that pesky current running through him again.
When Dylan bends down, the kiss is chaste at first. Just a simple peck. But then all of a sudden something takes a hold of Ryan and he’s pulling Dylan back down by the scruff of his neck, parting his lips like he’s a man starved.
Dylan let’s out a startled noise, but his movements are fluid after that. It’s a clash of lips and tongue and even teeth and neither of them can tell which way is up and which way is down.
And all of a sudden that low frequency current that was shuffling through Ryan has morphed into a full fledged lightning bolt. His sense are alight, hair on his arms standing up and head foggy with nothing but a chant of Dylan’s name.
Finally, when they remember they are not in a party house and in fact in front of all their coworkers turned kind of friends, they part. Neither one looks up immediately, the air still taut with the hypnotic charge of their chemistry.
Dylan makes his way back to his seat, delirious smile firmly embedded in his features.
It’s silent.
Until, “Holy hell, that was really… something.” From Kaitlyn.
And, “Either of you need an inhaler? Watching that took my goddamn breath away.” From Emma. Not to mention the collective wolf whistle from Jacob and Nick.
Ryan clears his throat. Once, twice, three times. Even as the game goes on, he can’t stop stealing glances at Dylan.
Can’t really stop thinking about what he tasted like either.
Fuck.
***
In the radio hut
It happens so fast.
One minute Dylan’s reaching up to fix the wire for the radio transmitter and the next his feet are dangling off the ground and his screams are piercing Ryan in a way he’s never felt before.
“Dylan!” Ryan’s desperately trying to see if he can get a shot off at the roof, but Dylan’s limp frame falls with a deafening thud!
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking GOD—“ Dylan’s hysterical at this point, staring wide eyed at his hand that looks.. scratched? Torn? …Bitten?
Did something just fucking bite him?
“Ryan! Ryan, you’ve got to cut it off, it’s spreading, it’s fucking spreading. Oh my fucking god—“
“You want me to what?!”
“Cut my fucking hand off, dumbass!”
Ryan’s entire world collapses in that second because how the fuck is he supposed to amputate his friend and fucking crush? How is he supposed to remove a limb from another human being?
“ Dylan, man— are you sure? Are you really fucking sure this is what you want right now?”
“Yes! Now fucking do it!”
And then Ryan has a chainsaw in his hands, there’s blood spattering all over his eyes, his mouth, his cheeks and Dylan is screaming so loud Ryan wants to stop.
Then it’s over. Then it’s quiet, save for the debilitating breaths that are heaving from both the stunned boys.
It’s silent, too silent. Dylan stares at the ground, between his hand and the limb it was severed from and Ryan stares intensely at the boy he just fucking maimed.
Dylan is the first to break the silence. “Dude. You just cut my fucking hand off.”
Ryan splutters, “You told me to!”
Dylan looks back at his hand, feverish look in his eyes. “Well, yeah I know but maybe that wasn’t a good idea!”
Ryan sees the panic in his eyes, can see how the gravity of the injury starts to set in. He sees Dylan shake his head slightly, like he can’t actually believe what’s in front of him. It takes Ryan seconds to be right in front of him.
“Dylan, look at me. Dylan,” Ryan lifts the other’s head, making him look him in the eye. “I’m sorry man, I really am. I didn’t—I just wanted to save you. I wanted to do what you wanted— fuck I’m so sorry-“
“No.” Dylan says. Shaking his head fully, he spares one more look at his hand before his eyes are back on Ryan. “It’s okay. Thanks.”
And if Ryan’s hands linger a little too long on either side of Dylan’s neck, well that’s a moment only they need to know about.
***
Before Ryan left
“And what? We’re just supposed to trust you with one of our weapons now because you have an objective?”
“Ryan-“ The aforementioned boy shakes his head, cutting off Kaitlyn’s words. “No. I know Mr. H. He’s a good man. There has to be another way.”
Laura sighs, all fight leaving her body. “If there is, I’m all for it. But for now, there isn’t. We have to kill him. I have to help Max. And from the looks of it, you have to help a lot of people too.”
Ryan pauses, looking from her to Kaitlyn and finally, to Dylan. He shrugs, desperation locked tightly away in the depths of his eyes. “Ryan… we could end this.”
The mental tug of war is exhausting the boy.
“You can come with me if you want. To see for yourself. If we find a way to help Mr. Hackett, we’ll do it. But I don’t have much time and I need to do this.”
Ryan can’t— he can’t leave Dylan. There’s a nagging feeling in his gut that tells him they shouldn’t be apart, but there’s absolutely no way that Dylan could handle a trek in his condition.
Dylan can see the war behind Ryan’s eyes, so he says a simple, “Go.”
Ryan’s head snaps to him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
Dylan gestures at Kaitlyn, “We’ve got an excellent marksman in our company. We’ll still have a weapon and none of us will go anywhere alone. Mr. H is…. He’s important to you. You deserve to see the answers for yourself.”
Kaitlyn is nodding in support, eyes kind despite her usual spunky exterior. Ryan looks back at Laura, her eyes pleading for them to hurry up and go.
And in that moment, he has absolutely no idea what possesses him, but he grabs Dylan’s uninjured hand, dragging him to a separate room.
He doesn’t speak immediately when they get there, just stares up into Dylan’s sad, tired eyes. He doesn’t want to leave. He’s terrified to. What if something happens? What if he gets back and it’s just one of them? What if… no. He can’t even think it.
“I just- I can’t- What if-“ Ryan’s cut off by Dylan stepping forward, right hand encompassing Ryan’s.
“We’ll be fine. You’ll be back. We’ll end this Ryan.” Ryan can feel the tears that he can’t fucking explain and shouldn’t be there prick up at the unsaid promise.
“Besides, you owe me your number. And a date. So, you kinda have to fucking come back.”
Ryan chuckles, nodding. He traces his eyes from where Dylan and him are intertwined, up the expanse of his long arm, all the way up to his face. The eye contact is heavy. It holds so many promises, so many declarations they aren’t ready to say.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I know.”
Then they’re kissing, slow and sweet, so much different than the explosion at the camp fire, and Ryan swears he’ll come back. He will be back for Dylan.
When they part, Ryan says, “Don’t be an idiot. Stay close.”
Dylan gives him a dopey smile, “Try not to be too much of a hero. Stay safe.”
And then, they parted.
***
The Aftermath
A single gunshot. That was what it took.
A boom that echoed through the forest, vibrating through Ryan with the promise of freedom. Of finality. Of safety.
“It’s over.” Laura says, lowering the gun, turning away as the body of Silas morphs into the human vessel it once occupied.
Ryan can barely breathe. “It’s over?”
Travis looks up at the sky, lost and forlorn, voice the quietest either of the pair had ever heard. “It’s over.”
The car ride back is silent. Ryan can feel Laura’s itch to get back to Max. To hug him and see that he’s back. That this mess is over. To never let him go.
Ryan feels it too; on a smaller scale surely, but it’s there. He lets the ghost of a smile form, thinking about how they really did it. How he and his friends can finally be free of this hell and try to pick up the pieces of their lives outside of this fucking camp.
His mind whirs a thousand miles a minute, thinking of all the things he’ll say to a certain tall, goofy, nerdy boy. The one with eyes like diamonds and heart like gold that snuck up on him in the best way possible.
It’s when they pull up to the lodge, when Ryan’s tumbling out of the pickup, when the door opens. It’s Emma, who hasn’t seen in god knows how long, standing with dirty clothes and a soaked hair.
Ryan hustles up the stairs, telling her, “We did it.”
Emma relaxes then, relief pouring out of her. But before too long, her face morphs into a wild concern Ryan doesn’t think he’s ever seen. He shakes it off, going to move around her in the doorway.
“Wait, Ryan. There’s something you should know—“
But he’s already made it past her, coming into the main room. Abi stands there, tears wordlessly streaming down her face. She looks up at the footsteps, panic seeping in as her eyes settle on Ryan.
Kaitlyn is faster though, standing in front of the confused boy, talking faster than he can register.
“Ryan, I’m sorry. He fucking— it wasn’t supposed to be like this. We tried to fight. It- it was so close. I tried, Ryan, I swear I tried-“
Ryan’s perplexed, looking from girl to girl to girl with caution. Then, his stomach starts to sink.
“Dylan?” He whispers. God no. Not him.
Kaitlyn is crying. Abi is crying. Hell, even Emma is shedding tears. There’s nothing. No words.
Until that earth shattering, jaw dropping, soul crushing moment where Kaitlin says, “He’s dead.”
No.
The room was spinning.
Not in a fun, what’ll happen next, this is sorta cool way, either.
No, the room was spinning in a what the fuck is going to happen next- earth shattering-who could ever recover from this way.
It seemed to happen in slow motion— just like in the radio hut. Between the bite and the chainsaw and the decisions that would alter life as they knew it— but this was so, so much worse.
The words that left Kaitlyn’s mouth were the worst sequence he could ever imagine. Ryan spent god knows how long just staring into the space where her words hang, waiting for the moment she would take them back.
But as she looked at him, face pale and grief-stricken, eyes pouring out tears that held a weight he couldn’t process, he knew that it was the truth.
Dylan was gone.
Ryan had lost him.
He lost him before he ever even got to really have him.
Kaitlyn moves aside then, and Ryan sees something that make his knees buckle. Dylan, perched up against the bottom of the stairs, blood soaked blanket covering what was sure to be a nasty wound.
He doesn’t know when they came inside, but Travis and Laura catch him before he can reach the ground. His mind is blank, his hands are shaking and his mouth is continually opening and closing with words he can’t push out.
That’s not him, he thinks. It can’t be. He was just- I was just here. He’s okay, he has to be okay.
“Dylan.” He says, expecting the brunette to yell a quick “GOTCHA!!” before getting up to hug him. “Dylan,” he says again, feet carrying him to the boy.
“Dylan,” Ryan repeats, his hand reaching out to shake him awake. He was still warm to the touch. He was still there. “Dylan man, this isn’t funny.”
“Ryan…” Kaitlyn’s voice might as well be eons away.
“Dylan, please. Wake up, man.” He’s shaking and shaking, but nothing. Ryan can feel the hysterics building with each touch, but he can’t— he won’t process this.
When there’s still nothing, still no joke, no innuendo, no stupid, stupid smile that makes Ryan feel like he’s awake for the first time in god knows how long, it starts to settle.
The tears come hot and heavy, streaming down his face with a ferocity he can’t a grip around. He collapses then, right in front of Dylan’s body.
“Besides, you owe me your number. And a date. So, you kinda have to fucking come back.”
He’s borderline choking now, and Kaitlyn has rushed to his side, arms tightly wound around him. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I’m so sorry I didn’t come back in time.”
***
When the doors open again, to reveal Nick and Jacob and a guy that could only be assumed is Max, Ryan can hear relieved and happy murmurs from everyone around him.
The cynical part of him wants to shout, wants to say that it was supposed to be him to get the reunion after a night of hell, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Because he still cares that everyone is okay. He just hates that Dylan isn’t.
He hasn’t moved from his place in front of Dylan. Eyes planted on his out of characteristically silent frame. The blood caked at his hairline, the smudges of dirt across his cheeks. He wants to reach out and touch him, but he can’t bring himself to. Because this time, if he’s cold, Ryan knows this is it.
He hates himself for leaving. Hates himself for not being here. The guilt is eating away at him with an intensity he’ll never heal from. They had so much to say; so much to do. And now it’s gone.
It’s Jake who comes up to him next. “The police are here, Ryan. We’ve got to go.”
His voice is soft, sorrowful. Like if he speaks too loud Ryan might snap. Like he’ll break down all over again.
But he doesn’t. Ryan simply nods, taking one last longing look at Dylan. “Bye, Dylan.”
Then, he gets up and walks straight out of the lodge.
Maybe they were free. Maybe it was over. Maybe he should be happy they’re okay now.
But none of it, not a god damn minute of it, meant anything at all.