Archive of Our Own

Dylan had never really considered what it would feel like to die before. It was one of those things that he would always joke about casually, like jumping out a window to escape an awkward situation but was never in serious danger of going through with it. He’d never felt the real fear of ‘oh fuck I’m about to die’ until that night at camp.

He remembered as he ran through the forest, his hand left behind in the radio shack after Ryan had gone through with actually cutting it off, that he’d finally understood why people were so terrified of dying. The darkness and void that would come with no longer existing in this world, no thoughts, no emotions; nothing – yeah that wasn’t sounding too good right now. As his feet carried him as fast as they would through those trees, Dylan prayed to a god that he didn’t believe him to let his survive this, to give him whatever fucked up miracle he needed to see the sunrise again; to see his friends again.

They’d all gotten separated after the incident at the radio shack and Dylan had had no choice but to run as fast as his legs could carry him after a werewolf had seemingly chosen him as it’s next victim. He’d heard Ryan yelling after him and the firing of a shotgun in the distance, however nothing had deterred the creature from locking its gaze onto Dylan. So, he ran.

“Fuck fuck FUCK-“ Dylan rounded the corner and crouched behind a nearby rock to try and hide himself from the creature, slapping his hand over his mouth to try and quiet down his heavy breathing. Fuck, if he made it out of his, cardio was going to become his new priority, he’d only been running for a few minutes but he could keep his lungs giving up on him.

He held his breath as he tried to focus on the sounds around him, trying to identify where the beast was coming from. He could only hear the creaking of the trees, the wind blowing through the gaps in the woods. A few minutes of silence passed, enough for the man in question to peak over the corner of the boulder. Nothing was there.

So, Dylan took off running again.

As he broke out of the treeline, he found himself skidding to a stop as he took in his surroundings. He had somehow found himself in some sort of burnt down carnival. Dylan wasn’t sure what it was, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help the thought that this definitely wasn’t here before.

The soft whisper of an old woman flowed through the air, causing the man’s blood to turn to ice. Dylan had to hold back a sob as he quickly ran behind the nearest desolate building, desperately holding everything he had left to his chest. This was not how this was supposed to go. If Dylan was to die, at least it should have been surrounded by his friends, some heroic sacrifice or something where he would go down in history as the martyr of the group – maybe they’d made him a mini sculpture or something to remember him by. He did not was to be mauled to death by a werewolf in the middle of the fucking woods, surrounded by nothing but the silence of the trees where his screams wouldn’t be heard by anyone.

A sudden low growl broke Dylan out of his thoughts, gulping down a cry as he held his breath once again. He prayed once again that the beast wouldn’t notice him, prayed to whatever omnipotent being that was out there to spare him. As the creature rounded the corner of the building and its gaze caught onto Dylan, he couldn’t help the flash thought in his head that religion was bullshit anyways.

The last thing he remembered was screaming as the beast took one last look at him and lunged.

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When Dylan awoke, he had to take a second to even remembered that he was awake. It dragged him out of unconsciousness like a fisherman pulling his catch out of water, a loud gasp escaping his lips as Dylan sat up. He took a few more large gulps of air, pressing his remaining hand to his chest as it lifted and lowered back down. He was breathing. He was conscious. He was okay.

Dylan finally let out the cries that he had been holding back the whole night, his sobs slowly turning into manic laughter as he laid back down on the forest floor. The twigs didn’t seem to dig into his back the way they always used to, but Dylan paid it no mind. He let out a cheer, throwing his arms in the air and giving the woods his finest middle finger.

“FUCK YOU WEREWOLVES, YOU BASTARDS!” He cried, flipping off the world with another laugh. His heart finally began to settle as he stared up at the sky, the sun shining his eyes without a care in the world; he’d never been happier to see it. God, he’d have one hell of a story to tell after this. Him and the rest of the counsellors.

Oh fuck-

Dylan wasted no more time, clumsily climbing to his feet as he took a look around for the easiest way back to camp. He had to make sure everyone else was alright, that no one else had succumbed to a gruesome fate the way he had convinced himself of his own. It took him a second to realise that he was no longer in that weird burnt down carnival from last night, instead Dylan was in just a regular part of the forest. How he’d managed that, he had no idea, maybe his brain had blocked off the rest of the evening from his mind to not traumatise him or some shit like the kind of thing he’d seen on the TV. Sure, why not.

Using the limited skills he had actually acquired from his time as a camper at Hackett’s Quarry, Dylan was able to quickly find a path that he recognised and began racing down to try and find any sign of life. All he could think about what the safety of his friends, of Ryan, who had yelled after him with a tone of voice so full of terror and worry, Dylan had almost turned around. It made his chest warm, thinking about how much Ryan had clearly wanted Dylan to stay safe. Of course, he likely would have reacted that way had any of the counsellors ran off, but it didn’t stop the little skip of the heart.

It took about ten minutes for Dylan to find his way back to camp, a deep sigh escaping his lips that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding until that moment. In the daylight, you would hardly have been able to tell of the terrors that the group had been through that night, the lodge standing tall and proud above the treeline.

Dylan considered his options for a brief moment, debating whether or not to run to where he had last seen the group or sit tight and wait for them to find him. He didn’t have long to wonder however, as quickly, Dylan picked out the sounds of police sirens breaking through the otherwise silent camp.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, taking a step back into the shadow of the trees as he watched a group of cop cars make their way over the driveway. Dylan had completely forgotten that they’d probably have to deal with the fucking police, there was definitely still a dead body in the pool. Who knew how many more had accumulated since he had split from the group. Dylan really didn’t want to deal with the hassle of trying to explain why he had a missing hand, which had at least stopped bleeding. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, Kaitlyn would probably know.

Dylan watched as the cops left their respective cars, calling into their radios for something or other, he couldn’t really hear from this far away. They thankfully failed to notice the man watching them from the treeline as they made their way up the steps of the lodge, pounding on the door with three heavy thuds. Dylan held his breath, his gaze completely fixed on the door as they all awaited a response. Please… Please let them be okay.

After what had felt like hours, the doorknob finally turned and was thrown open, the sweet face of Abigail greeting them. Dylan let out a small sob of relief, covering his mouth. The girl was covered in grime and other substances but looked otherwise alright as she waved her arms around the cop, seemingly trying to explain everything to him. Behind her, Dylan could spot another figure, Emma, slowly approaching the pair. She placed a hand on Abigail’s shoulder to calm her and began speaking to the police herself.

Finally feeling confident enough to show his face, Dylan started to walk towards the lodge, cradling his left arm in his hand in a poor attempt to hide the damage. He tried to make out what Emma was saying to the cop, whether she was pleading their case or coming up with some elaborate lie to get them out of this. Dylan wasn’t sure what was worse but knew he’d have to go along with whatever story the others conjured up.

He didn’t get a chance however as the group’s attention suddenly switched to a fourth car that was pulling up to the lodge, this one clearly not a part of the others as the cop seemed to straighten up and signal for his co-workers to precede with caution. It took the man a few seconds, but as soon as the door to the car opened and Laura, two eyeballs and all, stepped out cacked in blood, he knew who else was in that car.

Out of the backseat came Ryan, also covered head to toe in blood and a very tired expression on his face, but alive. He was alive.

“Holy fuck…” Dylan’s voice was barely a whisper as he watched in awe the group walk up to the cops with their hands up, the third member of their party taking out his police badge to tell the rest to stand down and not shoot them. He looked to be another cop, but this one seemed to be on their side. The ‘good’ cop pointed at Laura and Ryan before turning to the main officer, waving his arms in expressive motions as he told his story.

Dylan couldn’t even pretend to focus on that.

“Ryan,” he quietly said, taking a step towards the boy. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, staring at the floor with a vacant expression. His fingers twitched, like they were feeling the absence of a gun in his hand, and the closer Dylan got, the easier it was to spot the puddle of dark red around Ryan’s side.

“Holy shit Ry, are you okay? Did they get you?” He questioned, calling out a little louder in the hopes the man would notice him. However, he was getting nothing, just a blank stare at the ground.

“…dude?” Dylan continued to walk forwards and stopped only a few feet away from Ryan. He was still getting nothing from his friend and was starting to get quite concerned, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “You good?”

Nothing.

Dylan was starting to get really concerned now, taking a quick glance behind him at the group at the lodge door. They hadn’t seemed to notice him either, too wrapped up in whatever story the ‘good’ cop was telling them. He turned his attention back to his friend and tried to conjure up his best blasé Dylan smile. Slowly, he took a step forward, reaching with his good arm to place a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, hopefully waking him from the weird trance.

Except that’s not quite what happened.

Dylan was staring at his hand now in horror, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He had touched Ryan’s shoulder, but was met with no resistance whatsoever as it had completely passed through him. Like, fully just slid through the man’s body like slicing through air. What the fuck…

Dylan tried again, and again, and again until he was nervously laughing up a storm in front of Ryan. Every time, the hand just passed through him like the man wasn’t even there. Was, oh god, was Ryan dead? The thought made Dylan want to be sick and he shook it out of his head immediately. No way, there was no fucking way Dylan was dealing with a ghost situation right now. Not after everything, not with Ryan.

Finally, he looked up, and immediately locked eyes with Ryan who was now facing forwards at Dylan. His breath got caught in his throat as the two looked at each other, time around them seemingly crawling to a stop. Ryan’s expression was still blank as he gazed at Dylan, like his mind had buried itself behind all the memories of the night. Weird TV show shit.

“Ry,” Dylan’s voice broke sightly as it escaped him, a small sob following it as the sight of Ryan. The man in question seemed to finally react, a small frown of his eyebrows accompanied with a confused head tilt. It was subtle, but with Dylan so close he had caught it, and a bright smile lit up his face at finally getting a reaction from the man. He sighed contently, watching as Ryan’s mouth opened slightly as if preparing himself to respond.

“Ryan.” A sudden voice broke the pair from their staring contest, Dylan’s head whipping around to spot the ‘good’ cop walking towards them. He frowned but tried to hide it behind a polite smile, stepping back besides Ryan to allow the man to speak. “Come on, they want to talk to you too.” He addressed Ryan, tilting his head towards the cops at the door who seemed to be asking Emma and Abigail a series of questions.

To Dylan’s surprise, Ryan nodded like he had been paying attention the whole time and rubbed his eyes. Dylan watched his friend as he mentally prepared himself for this interaction, he guessed this was the last thing Ryan wanted to be doing right now. He tried to comfort his friend, who had still not said a word to him, but was ignored by the cop suddenly placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and steering him away to the lodge.

Neither of them acknowledged Dylan’s presence.

His blood turned to ice as he watched the two men walk away, his mouth opening and closing in a weak attempt to try and call out to them. In the back of his mind, he knew what this meant – he’d seen enough movies to identify this trope a mile away.

“Nononoono-“ Dylan started to panic as he looked around for anything to ground him. Not a single cop had paid him any attention, despite the fact that he had come out of the woods well within their range of sight looking like death itself and missing a fucking hand. The man was desperately trying to wrack his brain for an explanation, something to reassure him that this wasn’t happening. The only thing he could do was run after Ryan, tripping over his own two feet as he tried to catch up to the pair. He continued to call out to his friend, wishing desperately for him to turn around and see Dylan. He was sobbing now, not even trying to hide the wet tears pouring down his cheeks. He just needed to be seen, to be acknowledged by anyone.

Finally catching up to them, Dylan ran to the front of the lodge, blocking the path of the cop and his friend. He yelled at Ryan to look up, to see him, waving his arms about in a desperate plea that was left unheard. It didn’t do anything, and Dylan was forced to watch as his friend took his last step up to the lodge-

-and walked completely through Dylan.

That was the point where he finally cracked, sinking to the ground with a cry as he heard his friend politely greet the cop with his deep, deadpan voice before agreeing to discuss the night inside. He heard footsteps, then the door to the lodge being shut, then the muffled noises of the cops leaving the area to search the rest of the woods. Everything was muffled now, nothing reaching Dylan in its entirely. What was the point anyway?

He was dead.

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Dylan didn’t get up off the ground again until Ryan remerged, looking a little worse for wear emotionally but otherwise alright. His friend took a shaky breath before wiping some dried blood from his forehead and heading down the steps of the lodge. He sat down on the last step, coincidentally only a few paces away from Dylan, and took out his phone from his pocket. From where Dylan was standing, he could read the time was 9:24 in the morning and Ryan had received a few texts from his grandparents and one from a girl named Sarah- Ryan’s sister.

As the boy took his time responding to each one, Dylan let himself fully soak in his situation for a few moments. He was dead, that werewolf had obviously killed him, and Ryan didn’t know that the ghost of his former friend was standing next to him. The shock of realising he was no longer alive seemed to be wearing off, replaced by a feeling of numbness. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Dylan lifted his hand and waved it in front of his face. He wasn’t transparent in any way, not in the way he would expect to be as a ghost. He tried to place a hand on the railing of the steps and was surprised to find it was solid to touch. Well, not to touch really, he couldn’t actually feel the wood beneath his skin. It was a little weird. He tried to push or move the railing in any way like he knew he used to be able to, they weren’t exactly built with cement, but quickly gave up as it refused to budge.

Great. So, he was a non-transparent, non-flying ghost who could touch things but not interact with them and now was probably stuck like this for the rest of his non-life.

Fucking fantastic.

“Ryan.” Dylan and Ryan turned their heads simultaneously to find Laura stepping out of the lodge. It was weird to see her with both eyes, he almost missed the pirate look. She approached the pair and took a seat besides Ryan, clearly avoiding his eyeline as she fiddled with her fingernails.

“Travis is working his magic; the cops seem to be buying it. Mostly.” She explained to Ryan, who was vaguely paying attention but was still clearly focused on something else in his head. “They got a call a few minutes ago. Seems they found most of your friends, scattered around the camp but intact. Max and Nick are back to normal. Traumatised I can only imagine, but back to normal none the less.”

Dylan smiled and leant back against the railing, rubbing the tears that were forming in his eyes. He couldn’t quite explain in words the level of relief that came over him hearing those words, hearing that his friends were alright. One ghost story was enough for him, thank you very much.

Ryan however didn’t seem to share his sentiment, nodding slightly to acknowledge that he had heard what Laura was saying but not providing any commentary of his own.

“Kaitlyn was in the lodge, trapped Caleb in a freezer would you believe it. She’s passed out in one of the rooms with a shotgun in her hand.” Laura continued, clearly not expecting Ryan to make any contribution. “Jacob was running around the forest in his underwear, Nick was with him at least when they got found. Max was on the island where I left him, so…”

The boys noticed Laura’s slow trailing off and an uncomfortable feeling slowly settled in Dylan’s stomach. He could see the cogs turning in Ryan’s head too and he knew what was about to happen. He didn’t know if he could bear to listen to this.

“What about Dylan?” Ryan asked, his gaze suddenly lifting from his phone to focus on Laura. She didn’t meet his eye.

“…still missing.” She admitted, awkwardly staring off into the woods.

“You said they were all okay- Dylan’s missing?” Ryan suddenly exclaimed, his emotions breaking through his normal stoic personality to lash out at Laura. Dylan took a step back on instinct, suddenly wishing he could be anywhere but here.

“Yes- but he’s strong, okay? They’ll find him.” Laura tried to reassure Ryan, but it didn’t seem to be working. The boy looked out into the treeline, almost as if he was waiting for Dylan to step out of the trees at any given moment. Dylan wanted to cry.

“I’ve got to find him, Laura. He could be hurt, his hand- I’ve got to make sure he’s okay-“ Ryan suddenly rushed to his feet, phone forgotten on the steps of the lodge as he took a step towards the forest. Laura was quicker, jumping onto her feet and stopping Ryan in his tracks with her hands on his shoulders.

“Ryan, no, you have to stay here,” she tried on convince him, keeping the boy in place as he weakly fought back against her hold. He clearly didn’t have much energy in him left to fight the woman, his expression breaking as a choked sob left his lips. Ryan suddenly pushed himself back from Laura, wiping any evidence of his upset from his face so she wouldn’t notice. Dylan did though, he was the whole thing, stood a few feet away; invisible to the world around him.

“They’ll find him.” Laura repeated again, standing her ground with her arms by her side, ready to stop any attempts of Ryan walking away again.

He didn’t try a second time, grabbing his phone and shoving it in his pockets as he walked back up the steps of the lodge, disappearing into the building.

Dylan just stood there, heart breaking in his chest with every word spoken. He was helpless to do anything but watch.

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Whatever the “good” cop had said to the rest of the officers apparently had worked and the counsellors were deemed merely victims of a brutal animal attack. One by one, Dylan watched as his friends reunited at the lodge; hugs and tears of joy were shared by all of them. They each had their own story to tell, but Dylan wasn’t really in the mood to hear any of them. He stayed by Ryan’s side most of the time, who was held up in the corner of the lodge with his headphones in his ears.

Dylan did notice the occasional question about himself being asked to the police, who would only shake their heads. The mood of the lodge always seemed to dip dramatically whenever that happened, like a cold wave of realisation was slowly washing over the old counsellors that Dylan may never be found.

It made him want to scream, damn this whole ghost thing back to hell just to tell his friends that he was alright. The movies must have skipped over this part, because being a ghost was a lot less fun than Dylan had imagined.

Eventually, after intense questioning from the cops and a multitude of visits from the paramedics who had arrived an hour later, the group was free to go. A few of them, mainly Kaitlyn and Ryan, refused to leave until they had found Dylan, but the man could tell they were fighting a losing battle. They both knew deep down that it wouldn’t be happening.

Ryan lasted the longest, waiting until the sun was starting to set over the treeline before finally relenting. Dylan could see his friend tense up when the cops mentioned it was getting dark and that it wasn’t a good idea to spend another night at the camp – frankly, Dylan couldn’t agree more.

When Ryan started to walk towards the closest cop car, Dylan didn’t think twice about following him. He managed to slide past the boy into the seat next to him, thankful that at least he was corporeal enough to sit down in a car; it would have sucked to wait this long only to find out he was walking his way out of the camp. He thought about going back home to see him family, his old life, and then remembered that there would be no point. He’d have to watch his parents worry themselves sick over him not coming home from camp. He’d watch the police pull up to his door, watch as they explain to his family that his body was never found and that he likely dead somewhere in the forest hours away from home. Fuck, would he have to watch his own funeral? That was messed up.

No, he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have the strength to watch his family crumble.

So instead, he stayed with Ryan.

It took a few hours for the car to reach Ryan’s home, his grandparents waiting for him at the door when it pulled up the driveway. They met him with open arms and whispers of reassurances as they reunited, Dylan watched from a few feet away. He spotted her before anyone else did, Ryan’s sister, standing in the doorway of their home. She looked a lot like him, her short dark hair pulled back into two pigtails. She was crying, dropping what looked to be some books from her hands as she raced forwards.

“RYAN!” She cried, interrupting the hug between her grandparents and her brother. Dylan watched a small but bright smile cross Ryan’s face as he saw her, bending down to scoop her up into a warm embrace of his own. It made Dylan’s heart swell and almost brought a tear to his eye. He watched silently as Ryan reassured his sister that he was alive and well, wiping away her tears with his sleeve. Soon, all of the Erzahlers were crying, drawing some unwanted attention from the neighbours outside. Even Dylan was starting to feel their eyes on him, even though it was impossible.

“Nosy little shits…” he muttered, waving at a particular middle-aged woman across the street who seemed to be rolling her eyes at the heart-warming reunion.

“Come on! I made you a cake, come on Ry!” Sarah pulled Ryan inside by his wrist, returning Dylan’s attention back to the matter at hand. He almost felt awkward following the family inside, but he knew that if he didn’t go right now, he would have to walk straight through their door in order to continue ‘haunting’ Ryan; that almost seemed worse.

The home wasn’t anything to brag about, it looked just like a normal family house. The living room was small and quaint, a few blankets and pillows thrown around. On the shelves, Dylan smiled at the family photos that were framed alongside the random trinkets and books. He watched Ryan grow up through the various pictures, laughing at his awkward smiles to the camera and questionable teenage dress sense.

He could hear the family celebrating Ryan’s return in the kitchen and chose not to interrupt their private moment, instead he fumbled up the stairs and peeked his head through the first open door he could find. Fortunately enough, he seemed to have found Ryan’s bedroom. He instantly recognised the various band logos on the wall from the many t-shirts Ryan had worn to camp over the summer. His room wasn’t exactly colourful, adopting a rather monotone and muddy grey colour pallet, but it fit Ryan to a T. There was a record player in the corner which made Dylan geek out, until he remembered he couldn’t play any music anyway. What really intrigued him was the acoustic guitar that was gently perched against the wall beside it.

He tried not to imagine Ryan in his room, stumming along to his record player with a guitar pick in hand. Dylan made the fantasy worse by adding Ryan’s low humming to the imagination, his foot tapping away to match the beat as he fell into a therapeutic rhythm of playing.

His brief escape into his mind was interrupted by the door suddenly closing behind him. Dylan spun around to see Ryan had returned to his room and was now leaning against the closed door with his eyes closed. He seemed to be regaining his breath. Slowly, he let his backpack fall to the floor beside his dresser before making his way to his bed, perching himself on the mattress as he took out his phone. Dylan silently watched him from a few paces away, unable to read the expression on his face.

Ryan opened his messages and typed out a text to someone, short and to the point, before sending it off and waiting. He waited for a few minutes, never once looking up from the device in his hand. Dylan kept his mouth shut, holding his breath so as to not make a noise. It wasn’t necessary of course, Ryan couldn’t hear him anyway, but it still felt right. The only sounds he could hear were the soft, muffled noises of Ryan’s family downstairs as they rushed around the house.

A sudden ping came from Ryan’s phone as a reply flew in. Ryan’s eyes looked over the message, seemingly re-reading it a couple of times before he switched off the device and lay it gently beside him. The man stared in front of him, a blank expression on his face, no reaction at all. It was starting to scare Dylan even more than the werewolves.

Then, without warning, a choked sob escaped Ryan’s lips. It was like a dam had suddenly broken, and Ryan covered his mouth with the palm of his hand to muffle his cries. Tears started to uncontrollably stream down his cheeks, making his sobs wet and messy as he continued to cry and hold them back. Eventually, he gave up and fell onto the bed, curling his knees up to his chest.

Dylan was helpless to do anything but watch as his friend broke down in tears, something he had never seen before. Every cry shattered his heart even more, to the point where he himself was starting to cry alongside his friend at seeing his pain.

“Ryan…” He walked up and sat down on the floor beside the bed, leaning back against the mattress as the pair continued to mourn the loss of themselves. He lifted his arm and rested the stub of his former hand over Ryan’s own, a pointless act of comfort that ultimately did nothing for the both of them. Dylan finally crumbled and cried out, a loud scream of frustration, mourning and anger falling on deaf ears; a void that would never hear him. It was followed by quiet sobs and the occasional chuckle of disbelief coming from Dylan as the situation he was in continued to sink in.

This was going to fucking suck.

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The first couple of weeks went by in a blur for the boys. Dylan remained by Ryan’s side as he watched his friend fall deeper and deeper into a depressive state, helpless to do anything about it. He had found out through a phone call between him and Laura that the police has ruled Dylan as ‘Assumed Dead’ instead of ‘Missing’ given the circumstances of the ‘bear attack’. Dylan almost laughed at the irony that that’s what the police had gone with in the end to explain the whole thing. He would have as well had it not been for the silent tears that slowly rolled down Ryan’s cheeks upon hearing the news, waiting until he was off the phone with Laura before crawling into bed and remaining there for the rest of the day.

Dylan knew he was intentionally isolating himself from the rest of his friends, watching numerous messages and ignored calls appear on Ryan’s phone screen that went unanswered. Each time Dylan outwardly belittled Ryan for it, desperately wanting to hear the voices of his friends at the same time as wanting Ryan to get out of his dingy little room and get on with his life. His grandparents had tried everything at this point to bring Ryan back to his normal, brooding, and mysterious self, but that summer had seemed to have broken him.

After a month had gone by, Dylan wasn’t even fazed by the ghost thing anymore, he was just bored. Walking through walls and spying on Ryan’s family was fun for a little while, but quickly just became depressing as he watched them grow more and more concerned for Ryan’s mental health. He missed talking to people, interacting with the world around him was such a luxury that he never thought he’d even have to take for granted.

Things finally started to change one morning, as Dylan watched Sarah try to coax Ryan out of his room for the millionth time.

“You promised Ry…” It was her birthday party tomorrow and Ryan had apparently given Sarah his word before camp that he would drive her to see her favourite musical that just happened to be premiering in the city over. Dylan watched as without a response, Sarah’s optimism slowly shrivelled until there was nothing left. Tears filled her eyes and she silently cursed her brother, running down the stairs to leave for school without another word.

Dylan had had enough. He stormed through Ryan’s walls to see the man still curled in bed, his eyes locked onto the door. Of course, he was awake, he had heard the whole thing.

“Okay man, get up. I’m serious, you need to open the window or something at least, I’m a fucking ghost and I can literally taste the stagnant air,” he complained, folding his arms in front of his chest as he ranted into the void. Ryan gave no response, as usual, but it made Dylan feel better to be letting out his frustrations; so he kept going. “Your sister is out there crying her eyes out, you know I would kill for a sibling like that? My parents took one look at me and decided that was enough.”

He walked over to the curtains and waved his arms around, playing pretend like he was about to thrash them open like a mother berating her son for lying in too long on the weekend.

“Seriously Ry, this isn’t healthy. We’re all worried about you, I’ve seen the texts- I’ve seen it first hand for fucks sake! I’m stuck here, watching your family mourn you whilst you’re still alive cause you’re acting like a fucking corpse.” He continued, letting out a grunt of anger as the curtains, of course, refused to move. “I’m fucking sick of this, I’m sick of being dead. I want you to see me, to hear me, for once in this goddamn-“

Dylan’s hand grabbed onto the curtain and pulled, yanking the material across the rails at the top of the window. It flew to the right, blinding Dylan almost immediately as the sunshine illuminated Ryan’s room in a flash.

“…life.”

Dylan stood there for a few seconds, curtain thick in his grip. He could feel it, holy fuck, he could feel the curtain. The thick, dark green material was scrunching up in his hand, reacting like it would for any other human being. Dylan let out a cry of joy as he ran his thumb across the fabric, relishing in the sensory miracle he was experiencing.

He realised a little too late that there was still another person in the room.

Dylan’s head threw itself in Ryan’s direction, who at least was now fully sat up in bed. His face was still rather stoic, but his wide eyes and slightly agar mouth were all too telling. His gaze was fixed on his curtain, his entire body frozen in place.

“Holy shit- Ryan? Can you see me?” Dylan optimistically asked, despite not getting any reaction from the man. Suppose that was asking for too much. “Okay, okay that’s fine, but you saw that right? I’m not dreaming, I just fucking moved that curtain so hard. Oh my god!”

After a few minutes of Dylan freaking out and Ryan staring blankly at the curtain, he finally started to emerge slowly from his duvet cocoon. Dylan couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at seeing Ryan illuminated by sunshine for the first time in weeks, he looked… Well, he looked terrible frankly, but it still made Dylan’s heart warm.

Ryan slowly made his way towards the window, one step at a time. Dylan moved aside to let Ryan pass, not wanting another situation where he unknowingly walked through his dead friend. Dylan felt every second pass by as he watched his friend examine the curtain, lifting his hand slowly to run his fingers over the fabric himself. He started giggling with glee, jumping up and down on the spot like a little kid.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-“

“-Ryan?”

Ryan’s grandmother knocked on the door before slowly creaking it open, poking her head around the corner. Her gaze automatically fell to the unmade bed before it frowned in confusion when Ryan wasn’t seen there. She lifted her eyeline to spot her grandson standing by the window, peering out into the sunshine.

“Oh dear, it’s so nice to see you up.” She cooed, a kind smile gracing her features. She soaked in Ryan’s silent reply, not expecting a response. “If you’re feeling up to it love, there’s still some breakfast left downstairs. Come and join us if you’d like.” With that, she left, leaving Ryan’s door slightly agar, which the boy immediately noticed.

“Clever, either way you’ll have to walk over there now to close it,” Dylan commented, smug as he nodded in approval. “She’s good.”

Ryan huffed in amusement, the first noise Dylan had heard coming from the man that day, almost in response to Dylan’s commentary. The ghostly figure watched as Ryan crossed the room, placing his hand on the doorknob; yet he hesitated to close it straight away. His attention was drawn back to the opened curtain and subsequently Dylan who was standing right beside it. A few seconds of contemplation passed before Ryan made up his mind and left his room.

Dylan was stunned, needing a few extra seconds to reboot his brain. When it had finally sunk in what had just happened, he let out a loud cheer and pumped his fist in the air, stumbling around the room to catch up with Ryan.

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After that morning, Dylan started to experience more and more of the reality around him. With Ryan finally up and running once again, it left Dylan with a lot more alone time than before. He spent most of his time in Ryan’s room, trying to interact with every object in sight. So far, he’d managed to turn on a lamp by the bed, flip the page of a comic Ryan had abandoned on his desk and play a single string on Ryan’s guitar. Each time, Dylan had to hold back his tears of joy. He didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to get to a place where he was inevitably just going to be disappointed, yet he couldn’t help it.

The biggest thing was still the curtain.

Dylan had taken to make sure Ryan woke up every morning by pulling the curtains open to let the sunshine through, usually illuminating Ryan enough to wake him up. He was never conscious enough to see them move, but Dylan always caught the confused expression on his face when he noticed and how every night, he made a point of double-triple checking that he closed them. At first, the randomly opening curtains seemed to freak him out; not that surprising. Dylan almost felt bad every time Ryan shot out of bed to stare at the long, green pieces of fabric which no longer protected him from the sun, the sleepless nights of tossing and turning highlighted by the heavy bags under his eyes.

Eventually, Ryan seemed to just accept this bizarre turn of events as fact. He stopped being alarmed every time he would wake up to sun in his eyes, groaning as he covered his head with a pillow to try and block it out. Dylan would laugh at him, calling for him to get his ass out of bed given how much effort it took for him to muster enough conscious energy to move the damn curtains for him. He still caught the boy occasionally examining the pieces of fabric, a solemn look on his face as he did so, but never commented aloud of him; it wasn’t like Dylan could ask what he was thinking.

The best improvement in Dylan’s opinion was Ryan’s weekly calls with the group. Abigail had contacted him a few days after ‘the incident’ and practically begged him to call her. They ended up facetiming for an hour, talking about their mutual love of art and animation. Abi would show off the stuff she had been making in college and Ryan would comment on each one. Dylan was almost jealous of the time they spent together, but seeing the small smile on Ryan’s face for the first time in weeks made it all worth it. It warmed his cold, dead heart, so he let them be. There was an added bonus being able to hear the voices of his friends every once in a while, so he buried that irrational jealousy that he wanted to be the one talking to Ryan for hours aside.

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon when Kaitlyn called, forcing Ryan into a facetime to ask about how he was doing.

“I’m fine,” was pretty much the only thing that fell from Ryan’s lips, propping his phone up against his desk so he could continue mindlessly drawing on his tablet with Kaitlyn in the background.

“Bullshit,” she argued, not taking any of Ryan’s sorry excuses like the rest of his friends did. Dylan hovered over the man, smiling at the sight of his friend on the phone. She looked good, wherever she was. “Ryan, you barely talk to us as it is. Have you contacted the therapist Travis gave us?”

“Therapy’s not really my thing,” Ryan replied, his stylus filling the otherwise silent bedroom with small, sharp strokes against the iPad.

“Even more reason for you to talk to them, Ry.” Kaitlyn rolled her eyes on screen, leaning back on her own chair with her arms crossed. “I’m worried about you. Everyone is.”

“Kaitlyn I’m-“

“If you say ‘fine’ one more time I’m going to drive over there and shove that drawing pen up your ass.”

Dylan let out a small giggle, having missed Kaitlyn’s sharp and witty comebacks. He leant against Ryan’s chair, peering over his shoulder to try and decipher what he was working on. It took a couple of seconds to realise that neither pair had started talking again, and he raised his head to look at Kaitlyn. Her eyebrows were frowned, staring intently at Ryan through the screen. Ryan on the other hand seemed to be in his own little world, not disturbed by the sudden silence.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there someone with you?” Dylan’s ‘blood’ turned to ice as Kaitlyn spoke, taking a sudden step away from the desk. He knew there was no one else in this room other than him and Ryan, despite this, Dylan still quickly scoped out the room for any intruders.

“Um, no?”

“I swear I heard something,” Kaitlyn questioned, leaning forwards to stare at the background on Ryan’s image. “Pick me up, show me.”

“…Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously Ryan. Unless you want to get murdered, give me a tour!”

Ryan rolled his eyes and complied, picking up his phone and flipping the camera to do a quick sweep of his bedroom. Dylan stood by his bed, still frozen in place at Kait’s question. He did muster up enough humour in him to throw up a middle finger at the camera as it passed him, even though he doubted anything would come of it. Ryan’s steady hand seemed to wobble a little when he got to the dreaded curtains, but didn’t say anything as he flipped the camera back around.

“Happy?”

“No. Go back.”

Dylan anxiously awaited as Ryan followed Kaitlyn’s commands, wondering what the hell she was doing. She barked out orders for Ryan, telling him to follow her directions until his camera was pointed at exactly the right place.

It was pointed directly at Dylan by the time she was satisfied.

“THERE!” She cried, the soft chime emanating from the iPhone to indicate she had just taken a screenshot of their call, sending it straight to Ryan’s device. “Look at this, tell me it’s not just my wifi.”

Dylan rushed to Ryan’s side as he opened up their messages, clicking on the picture Kaitlyn had just sent. It took a few seconds to load in, and at first all the boys could see was a picture of Ryan’s bedroom with Kaitlyn’s face minimised in the corner. Dylan tiled his head, confused.

“What am I looking at?” Ryan voiced, examining the image closer to try and decipher some code Kaitlyn was clearly not sharing with them.

“Look, at the bedside table, do you see it?”

Ryan zoomed in on the image; and there it was. Beside Ryan’s bed, exactly where Dylan had been standing when the video was taken, the image seemed be… distorted? Like it was still loading in and glitching at the same time, like one of those bendy mirrors you’d visit in the carnival. Dylan stared at it intently, trying to keep his mouth shut despite the fact that his ‘heartbeat’ was going through the roof. The distortion, it was shaped like a person, there was no doubt about it.

Ryan remained quiet for a few more seconds, simply taking in this new information.

“…Ryan? You still there?”

“Uh- yeah, shit. I’m still here.” Ryan’s voice seemed to be smaller now as he spoke, standing up from his chair. Dylan took a couple steps back, giving the boy room to breathe.

“You can see it then. The shape?”

“Yeah. I don’t- Kaitlyn I don’t know what that is.”

“Flip me around again. Film that same spot.”

Ryan did as he was told and almost seemed disappointed when he discovered the spot beside his bed was now showing as normal. He voiced this to Kaitlyn, who seemed to share the sentiment. Of course, Dylan knew exactly why it wasn’t working now, given that he had moved.

“Fuck…” He said out loud, pacing the floor as he threaded his fingers through his hair. He was so close; he was so fucking close. He needed to get Ryan’s attention before he ended the call with Kaitlyn. He needed this to work.

He considered trying some of his other methods, though they had been pretty unreliable up until this point. That left the only thing he knew he could do without fail. The fucking curtains.

“It was probably just my phone glitching, Kait-“ Ryan continued to reassure his friend that he wasn’t being haunted in the background, but Dylan wasn’t listening anymore. He ran over to the window, grabbing the curtain with his good hand and praying to whatever god there was for this to work.

“No Ryan, I swear there’s something there- I heard-“

And then he yanked.

As before, the curtain threw itself open, seemingly on its own, letting in the cloudy day into Ryan’s room like a flood. Dylan himself stumbled to the right, barely managing to catch himself on the windowsill. He laughed, turning to Ryan, who stood in the centre of his floor with a blank expression. His attention was entirely on the curtain.

“…Ryan?” Kaitlyn’s voice filled the otherwise silent room, though Ryan wasn’t paying her any mind. He silently gripped his phone in his hand, raising it to his face. Dylan could see the man swallow down a lump in his throat as he did so, aiming the camera at the now exposed window.

“Ryan what are you- THERE!”

Dylan knew instantly what the girl had spotted, if Ryan’s sudden wide eyes weren’t evidence enough. He laughed again, louder this time, in a mixture of glee and relief. It had worked, it had fucking worked!

Dylan waved his arms around, yelling Ryan’s name as the man continued to stare. Kaitlyn was freaking out now, taking screenshot after screenshot as she spoke.

“Wait I can hear- Oh my god it’s moving- holy fuck Ryan your room ghost is moving!”

“I can see that,” Ryan replied blandly, in that tone of voice that Dylan had missed so much. It warmed his heart, or lack thereof, clutching his chest as he tried to get his breathing under control over the excitement.

“Ryan, since when has your room been fucking haunted?”

“I- I don’t know!” He replied, his gaze flipping between the distorted figure on screen and what was in front of him. He clearly still couldn’t actually see Dylan, but it was progress. And god, did it feel good. Ryan eyed the curtains and seemed to pale a little at the realisation that however had been haunting him had clearly also been the one waking him up every morning.

“Talk to it! Ask it a question!”

Ryan opened his mouth to do just that but stumbled over his words as to what to say. He tried again before giving up, turning away from the curtain. Dylan let out a cry of protest, charging forwards to Ryan’s side.

“Dude, what the fuck? I thought we were getting somewhere?”

“Ryan what are you doing? Talk to-“

“I have to go.” Ryan ended the call with Kaitlyn before she could reply and threw his phone onto his bed, unbothered by the way it bounced back onto the floor. He didn’t dare look back at the window, eyes fixed forwards as he quickly made his way out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Dylan was left behind, stood in the middle of the bedroom, an expression of disbelief on his face. He was so close, and yet he’d still found a way to fuck it up. He’d gone too quickly, freaked out Ryan, and dragging his progress back to the start line.

“Fuck.”

He didn’t disturb Ryan and whatever he chose to do downstairs. By the time the boy returned to go to sleep, the curtains were closed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan didn’t wake Ryan up in the morning the next day, choosing to crouch down and lean against the wall by the door. He didn’t really sleep as a ghost, the days seemed to blend together in a way that felt like he was always sleeping. The boredom could occasionally rear its ugly head, but Dylan was too scared to even attempt to interact with the objects in Ryan’s room again in case of upsetting the boy again.

When Ryan woke and noticed the lack of sun in his eyes, Dylan couldn’t quite pinpoint whether he looked unbothered or whether hidden behind his otherwise stoic expression was a hint of disappointment.

This went on for a few more days, Dylan left Ryan to his peace. He watched Kaitlyn spam his phone with texts and calls every day that went unanswered. The ghost was starting to realise that maybe this was for the best, that Ryan’s life was already filled with enough trauma and nightmares, he didn’t need the added stress of his former friend haunting him for the rest of his life because he had nowhere else to go.

As Dylan sat on Ryan’s bed, absentmindedly watching the man as he scrolled through pictures on his phone at his desk, Dylan began to conjure up a plan. Maybe he would go and visit all of his friends first, make sure they were all doing well, maybe give them a mini freakout or two before moving on to his family. By that point, they likely will have skipped past that awkward part of the mourning phase and have gone back to their normal lives, which would make it a lot easier to deal with. Dylan could visit them, maybe whisper a few parting words like a ghost laying his unresolved issues to rest before jetting off somewhere to travel the world. Could ghosts even get onto a plane?

As Dylan continued to consider the implications of a ghost trying to get through TSA, he failed to notice that Ryan had stopped scrolling on the other side of the room. His thumb was hovering over a specific image as it tried to move to the next one, but refused to do so. Ryan stared hard at the picture; it was the screenshot that Kaitlyn had sent him a few days ago. The ghost.

She had gone through the liberty of dissecting the image since Ryan was refusing to answer her texts. She’d sent back a first draft, having clearly just opened up some random photo editing software on her phone and drawn an outline of this ‘ghost’ with a red marker. It now looked a lot clearer and Ryan could easily make out the image of a figure standing in his room.

What made him stop scrolling past however was the figure’s left hand. Or lack thereof, to be more exact.

At first, Ryan had thought Kaitlyn had just made a mistake in her drawing, so he went back to the original screenshot to prove her wrong. But there it was. Even without the red outline, it was clear in the way the distorted figure stood that it was missing its left hand. It was cut off a little above the wrist. Just like… Just like…

Dylan startled on the bed as Ryan suddenly rose to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground. He didn’t spare a glance to the floor, his eyes locked onto his phone screen. He was gripping it so tightly at this point that Dylan could see his knuckles turning white.

“Ryan, what’s going on man?” He questioned, aware that we wouldn’t actually get an answer. He rose to his feet and joined Ryan’s side, peering at what he was staring at on his phone. He couldn’t quite identify the image, though it looked to be of his own bedroom. “Dude, you’re hyperventilating… okay Ryan you’re starting to scare me, what’s wro-“

“Dylan…”

The man took a startled step back as he heard his own name pass by Ryan’s lips. That was the first time he had heard the man directly address him since the incident at the lodge, and god if it didn’t hurt like a bitch. Dylan could practically hear his heart breaking. Ryan didn’t look up, didn’t show any indicator that he was actually talking to the ghost, but Dylan stayed silent and motionless regardless. He was frozen in place, trying to control his own breathing.

A few seconds passed, neither man said a word. Ryan continued to stare at his phone, Dylan continued to stare at Ryan.

Finally, after what felt like hours for Dylan, he watched his friend slowly lift his head and look around the room like he was searching for something in particular. Eventually, his gaze landed on the curtains. Dylan had to hold back an eye roll; of fucking course it was the curtains again. Ryan quickly ran over, yanking the curtains open just enough that they lay in the centre of the window; half open, half closed. It was odd and Dylan felt the need to comment on this, but was cut off by Ryan’s shaky voice.

“You can move the curtains, right? Okay. Move them. If you can hear me, show me.” Dylan stared at Ryan like he had just grown a second head. No way, no way was he talking to Dylan. He was actively choosing to talk to the ghost in his room, this man was insane.

Yet a spark of hope was beginning to ignite in Dylan’s heart. He took a slow step forwards, eyes never once leaving Ryan, and ruffled the curtains as obviously as he could. He didn’t need to try very hard, as the moment the fabric moved, Ryan let out a small gasp. He held back any other reaction by grabbing his phone, pointing the camera in Dylan’s direction. He was able to identify the moment Ryan saw the distortion that was his ghost, his eyes widening and mouth opening slowly to address the ghost.

“Okay… Okay. Fuck, I’m going to ask you some questions. Close the curtains for no, open them fully for yes. You got that… Mr Ghost?”

Dylan chuckled and opened the curtains with a smirk. Clever boy…

“Right, okay. You can understand me, that’s good. Do- do you know who I am?”

Progress, this was progress. Dylan started to practically vibrate out of his ‘skin’, responding to Ryan’s question with a ‘yes’.

“Come on Ryan, come on man…”

“You know me? Right… okay, shit-“ Ryan took a second to collect himself, lowering his phone with a shaky hand to take a deep breath before gathering up the courage to raise it again. “I can’t believe I’m about to ask this. This is going to be super embarrassing if I’m wrong.”

Dylan smiled, nodding up and down, hoping the camera was working well enough that Ryan could sense his encouragement. He was so close…

“…Dylan, is that you?”

“YES!” Dylan cheered, bringing himself close to tears. He tore the curtains open, a little more violently than necessary, but his enthusiasm certainly didn’t go unnoticed. Ryan seemed to let out his own sigh of disbelief, the hint of a smile creeping across his face.

“No fucking way…”

“Yes fucking way, it’s me man!” Dylan responded, covering his mouth with his hand to hold back his sobs of excitement.

“Your hand, your ghost doesn’t have a fucking hand dude,” Ryan admitted, shaking his head in disbelief as he truly came to terms with what was happening. Dylan chuckled, of course it was his hand that gave him away. He took the time Ryan needed to process everything to calm himself down, holding back his want to throw him arms around Ryan and squeeze the very life out of him.

It took about a minute before Ryan was ready to continue asking Dylan questions.

“Have you been here the whole time, man?”

That’s a yes.

“Fuck…” Ryan gave a look of pity in the general area of Dylan, seemingly unsure of what else to say. Dylan could share the sentiment. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice…”

Dylan shook the curtains, trying to communicate to Ryan for him that it was okay, that he’d noticed now. Ryan seemed to understand the general gist of it, continuing on with the questions.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have like, a family to go back to? Why me?”

Dylan didn’t really know how to respond to that. Not only because his only form of communication was reduced to just yes or no questions, but also because he didn’t really know if he could ever tell Ryan the reason he had chosen him to haunt. He knew he liked Ryan the most out of all the counsellors, that was never in doubt, but liking someone for a summer and wanting to spend the rest of your undead life with them were two very different things.

Thankfully, Ryan seemed to realise his mistake before Dylan was forced to try and communicate this.

“Fuck- you can’t answer that, okay…” He seemed to think for a moment, trying to come up with the best way to word all the thoughts in his head. “…Are you stuck like this? Are you- fuck- are you like dead dead?”

Dylan didn’t really know how to answer that either. He shook the curtains a little, then attempted to shrug to the camera.

“…Did you just shrug at me?” Ryan’s deadpan voice asked. Dylan smirked and shrugged again, just to be a nuisance. “Well, you’re still you, which is good. That’s good…”

He sighed and lowered the camera, taking a minute to rub the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“…I know I can’t like, see you or anything… But I’m happy you’re here man.” He eventually admitted, looking up in the general direction of Dylan. The ghost smiled, moving around so he was stood in front of Ryan.

“Me too Ry. Me too.”

….

“Hey, were you waking me up every morning on fucking purpose? What the fuck dude?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It got easier after that.

Now that Ryan knew Dylan was there, he was actively making an effort to talk to him throughout the day. He would curse Dylan out for waking him up with the curtains, shoo him out of the bathroom despite Dylan never once trying to enter (he wasn’t a perv). He’d narrate what he was going to do that day whilst eating breakfast, an awkward silence always falling over the room whenever his family caught him talking to himself; Dylan found this hilarious. When they were alone, Ryan would ask the ghost various yes or no questions to try and further the mystery as to why he was like this.

No, he wasn’t transparent. Yes, he can still remember everything up to his death. No, there was no sign of injury on his ‘body’ like in the movies. No, he couldn’t interact with everything, it took a lot of effort on Dylan’s part. No, he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. Yes, he missed being able to eat. No, he wasn’t going to walk through Ryan to “see what it felt like”.

The days flew by much faster now that Ryan was by his side. He could practically feel himself glowing, Dylan felt refreshed. He still hadn’t managed to get Ryan to hear or see him without the help of a curtain or camera, but they were making progress. With enough focus, Dylan managed to play the first three notes of Wonderwall on the guitar; he couldn’t tell whether Ryan was impressed or just about ready to exorcise him on the spot.

One thing Dylan failed to notice now that he had his best friend back was how much Ryan had been ignoring the rest of the gang. He’d occasionally spot the boy’s phone buzzing with an incoming call from one of their friends, to which Ryan declined in favour of ‘talking’ with Dylan. It made his heart swell with pride, even if it was also filled with guilt. He knew they’d come knocking eventually.

And that’s exactly what they did.

On an otherwise normal Thursday afternoon, Dylan and Ryan were sitting cross-legged on the bed, trying to get Dylan to interact with the laptop placed precariously between them. So far, he’d only managed to crash it twice, which in of itself was quite impressive.

Neither boy thought anything of the knock at the door when it came, they were used to visitors of the family popping in and out. They could hear the muffled sound of Ryan’s sister greeting someone at the door, presumably inviting them in before shutting it behind them.

“Ten bucks that’s her new ‘friend’ Jessica,” Dylan pondered allowed, smashing his hand through the keyboard as he desperately tried to type. “I’ve heard them on the phone until like 3am, your sister can talk man, Jesus…”

“Any closer?” Ryan interrupted, unaware of Dylan’s muttering. He kept his phone pointed in front of him to watch Dylan, examining the way the distortion would move. It was intriguing, if not a little bit creepy.

“I’m doing my best-“

“RYAN!”

Both boys sat up quickly as the door to the bedroom swung open. Ryan shoved his phone underneath a nearby cushion whereas Dylan instinctively tried to slam the laptop screen shut; it, to no one’s surprise, did not work.

Kaitlyn stood in the doorway, hand gripping the handle with an unimpressed look on her face. Her glare was trained at Ryan.

“What the fuck man? I thought you were dead!”

“Kait, I- shit…” Ryan stumbled, fishing the phone from under the covers and swiping through all the unanswered phone calls and text messages sent by Kaitlyn. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I’ve been distracted.”

“By what? Last time I checked, you sat in your room all day brooding- that’s literally your thing,” she sighed, closing the door behind her as she made her way to the bed. Dylan barely had anytime to jump up off the duvet before she sat down. He smiled; it was good to see her in person.

“Yeah, I know…”

“You owe me an apology dude, me and the rest of the group. They’re worried about you,” She lightly shoved his shoulder, earning her a small smile. “Answer your phone.”

“I will.” Ryan promised, eyes flickering between her and where Dylan previously sat. The opened laptop still lay on the bed and Kaitlyn curiously took a look at the screen.

“Dude, who uses the ‘notes’ app anymore, what were you doing?”

Ryan stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable answer that wouldn’t pin even more suspicion on what he had been getting up to. Dylan snorted, having been at the receiving end of many a Kaitlyn interrogation.

“Good luck with this one Ry.”

What he didn’t expect, however, was the scream that Kaitlyn let out as soon as he finished speaking.

She jumped straight up off the bed, grabbing Ryan’s guitar which lay beside the nightstand, wielding it high like a weapon. Her eyes were trained directly where Dylan was stood, though her gaze still seemed to go through him. Ryan was waving his arms around, trying to get Kaitlyn to calm down.

“What the fuck was that,” she spoke, gripping the neck of the guitar tightly. She raised it, clearly not afraid to strike. “Ryan, you heard that right?”

“Heard what? Kaitlyn, put it down-“

“The voice Ryan! It- It came from right there!” She pointed to where Dylan remained motionless, vaguely gesturing in the right area. “It said something like ‘good luck Pi’?”

“Ry.” Dylan corrected. Kaitlyn let out another shriek.

“There!”

Ryan turned to look at where Kaitlyn was pointing, though also failed to see what was going on. Dylan could tell though that the cogs were turning in his head, as were his own.

“…Kaitlyn, I think there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Holy shit, there actually is a ghost in your room. I was fucking right!”

“Kait, listen to me-“

“Ryan, get the door. I swear to god, we are not dealing with this again-“

“Kaitlyn please-“

The two continued back and forth, Ryan trying to calm his friend down whilst Kaitlyn refused to lower the guitar. It took Dylan’s intervention to once again settle this. He considered himself pretty cool for managing not to completely freak out at the fact Kaitlyn could hear him, he was completely fine… Completely fine.

“Ladies, ladies, no need to fight over me,” he watched Kaitlyn tense up again, but decided to keep going. “Kait, I love the enthusiasm, but that guitar is going straight through me- it’s not going to do anything. Now my lovely associate Ryan here has quite a couple of things to explain, so I’d suggest taking a chill pill and hearing him out.”

Kaitlyn didn’t move. Her entire body was frozen as she stared at Dylan, or at least where she thought Dylan was, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Kaitlyn?” Ryan calmly asked, eyes flicking between his friend and his ghost friend. “What is it, what did he say?”

It took another couple of seconds before Kaitlyn finally lowered the guitar, sending a wave of relief through Dylan’s ‘veins’ despite the knowledge that she couldn’t have hit him anyway. He calmly held the weapon in hand and turned to Ryan, an unreadable expression on her face.

“…‘he’?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaitlyn, Ryan and Dylan all sat on the floor of the bedroom, eagerly waiting for the first person to speak. It had taken a while to explain everything to the girl and even longer for them to be able to convince her, but being able to hear the literal voice of your dead friend was pretty much as good as you’re going to get in terms of evidence. Kaitlyn was now staring directly at the floor, picking at the skin on her palm as she processed what she had just learnt. Ryan was texting on his phone, as per Kaitlyn’s request, letting the old counsellors know that he was alright. There wasn’t much Dylan could do except wait.

“Dylan?” Kaitlyn finally spoke, making the addressed man jump out of his ‘skin’. Ryan also looked up, redirecting his attention to the conversation at hand.

“Y-yeah?” Dylan responded, much less confidently than he had wanted. Kaitlyn clearly picked up on this as a small, almost smug smile formed on her lips.

“We’re going to fix this.” She replied.

“Fix this? You mean my death?” Dylan laughed, shaking his head and he looked down at the carpet. “I don’t think we’ve got enough pixie dust to do that Kait…”

Kaitlyn remained quiet, deep in thought. She had a look of determination slapped across her face, so much so you could almost mistake it for just plain stubbornness. Ryan looked between her and the empty space in the little circle they had made where Dylan sat. “What? What’s he saying?”

“But you’re not dead. They never found your body.” She insisted, sitting up and turning to face where Dylan’s voice was coming from.

“I’m literally a ghost! How much more ‘dead’ can I be?” Dylan exclaimed, laughing a little at the absurdity of what she was suggesting.

Kaitlyn ignored him and continued. “If they never found a body, then there’s a chance whatever’s going on with you in more supernatural than we might have thought. Think about it, why are you here Dylan? You don’t have unfinished business you need resolving, you lived like a hermit-“

“How do you know I don’t have unfinished business!” He protested, folding his arms like a child. Kaitlyn simply sat there, looking unimpressed.

“You wanna go down that route?” She questioned.

“Well, we shouldn’t ignore it!”

“Okay,” she said, folding her own arms and leaning back against the bed frame. Ryan sat next to her, considerably confused. “Tell him then.”

“…what?”

Kaitlyn’s gaze flickered to Ryan, subtle enough that the man in question didn’t notice but Dylan did. “Tell him.” She repeated.

Dylan considered acting aloof, pretending like he didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. He knew it would be pointless though, Kaitlyn could read him like a book, even if it was just by the tone of his voice. Back in camp, the two liked to meet up during the late hours of the night, hang out in the radio shack or down by the river; just to talk. The company was nice, and Dylan liked having someone to share his never-ending thoughts with, as did Kaitlyn. They would often lose track of time and only realise they needed to get back to their cabins when they spotted the sun peeking out from the tips of the treeline.

It made sense then that eventually they had gotten onto the topic of Dylan’s feelings for Ryan and how they only seemed to be growing as the summer flew by. Kaitlyn had asked him, the last time they met up before the end of camp, if Dylan was going to be able to let Ryan go. He hadn’t responded straight away, laughing about some pointless thing as a way to change the subject. Kaitlyn wasn’t having it and pushed on.

“It’s our last night, we’re all leaving tomorrow Dyl.”

“I know, I know,” he said, kicking the waves with the tips of his feet as the two sat at the docks, enjoying their last night of fresh air before returning to their normal lives. “I just wish I had told him, you know? I can’t do it now, it’s too late.”

“It’s not-“

“It is.” Dylan insisted, cutting her off. He sighed, letting his head fall back to look up at the almost full moon in the sky. Kaitlyn let him brood for a few more seconds before sighing.

“You’ll regret it, Dylan.”

“…I know.”

Right now, Dylan was wishing the ground would swallow him up whole. He could feel Kaitlyn’s stare, that knowing look in her eye. She knew that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“…He can’t even hear me.” He protested, looking at Ryan as he did so. The boy still looked utterly confused, he was after all getting only one side of the conversation. Yet there was a glint of concern in his eye as he looked at Kaitlyn.

“Does that matter?” The girl replied. “We have to know. If telling him doesn’t whisk you away or whatever, then there’s something else keeping you here.”

“How do you know I don’t have some other unfinished business?”

Kailyn once again gave him a look that was close to utter boredom. “You don’t.”

Yeah, she was right. He didn’t.

Dylan rolled his eyes and huffed. He hated when Kaitlyn was right. Plus, he really liked the idea of being human again, this ghost thing seriously sucked. If whatever her plan was even had a slight chance of being successful, he had to try. And in order to convince her to do so, that meant going along with whatever she wanted him to do.

“…If I’m still here after this, we will never speak of this again.”

“Not until the wedding.” Kaitlyn smirked, tilting her head in Ryan’s direction, which earned her an even more confused look.

“Kaitlyn, what’s going on? Tell who what?”

Dylan sighed and finally turned his body to face Ryan’s. He took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he mustered up the courage and the right words to say. He’d dreamt of this, of sweeping Ryan off his feet with his poetic words and seducing charms. Of course, in real life, he had none of those things, even as ghost. Yet another reason why this whole thing sucked ass.

“He can’t hear you.” Kaitlyn said, trying to coax him on. It was true as well, Ryan wouldn’t hear a word of this, so why was Dylan shaking? The boy in questioned seemed to be catching on, turning his attention to the space that Dylan occupied with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Ryan…” He began, taking another deep breath. He looked down at the floor, unable to meet Ryan’s eyes as he spoke. It was bad enough that Kaitlyn could hear him. God damn it, if this was going to be the last thing he ever said, he’d better make it good. “…I remember when you came to camp that first day. Chris gave you a lift, I remember I was hanging out by the lodge trying to help a kid when you got out the car. I wasn’t even paying attention really, too caught up in who was meant to be going where and when, which kid had which cabin and why apparently Elizabeth couldn’t stay with Josh and what-not; you know, basic scheduling stuff.”

He took a breath, hands still shaking, and continued. Kaitlyn remained quiet.

“And from behind me I just hear this low, real deep voice asking Chris which cabin you were assigned to. I looked up and I saw you and… I just remember thinking to myself that you were this brooding, probably emo, quiet looking guy, all tucked away at camp listening to whatever was playing through those headphones dangling from your neck and… I remember making a promise to myself that you were going to be my friend.”

Ryan spared a glance at Kaitlyn, who shook her head for him not to interrupt the silence.

“I tried, every day I tried to find an excuse to talk to you. I’d schedule myself on the same shift at lunch, make stupid little tasks for me to do just to see you with the kids down by the lake. God, those shitty jokes I’d sneak into my announcements? I did that because every time I said it, I could just imagine the small smile on your face or a laugh that would light up a whole room. I got you a few times too. I saw that one time in ‘crafting’ when I glued the paper mâché planet to my foot, you snorted and covered it up with a cough. No one noticed, they were too busy laughing at me, but I saw. I think that’s when I knew.”

Dylan tried to keep him voice as stable as possible as he looked up, freezing when his eyes met Ryan’s. He had to take a few moments to remember that Ryan couldn’t actually see him before he could continue.

“I knew that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of camp trying to make you smile. And every time I did, I felt this little spark in my chest that kept me going for a week, like a little flame. I didn’t mind all the blasé Dylan crap when you were around, I liked it even. I felt more like me than I ever did with anyone else, Ry. Well, that doesn’t include Kait, but this confession is for you, not for her. Don’t tell her that though., I love her.”

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, but she smiled sweetly. Dylan caught this and smiled too before turning his attention back to Ryan. He gathered up the confidence to reach out, ghosting his hand over Ryan’s. It felt like the right thing to do. The boy in question seemed to freeze, though his face still had that look of caution and confusion on it, but Dylan was on a roll now, he wasn’t about to chicken out at the last hurdle.

“God, this really is a confession, isn’t it? I’ve never actually done this before, I hope you don’t mind Ry. I really wanted you to notice me, I wasn’t subtle. I’d light up every time you walked in a room, I’d find excuses to touch you and be around you even when I didn’t need to be… I really wanted you to notice, but at the same time, the thought terrified me. I couldn’t bring myself to actually say the words. I was a coward, plain and simple. No need to beat around the bush. I really like you Ryan.”

Dylan let out a sigh of relief. Kaitlyn seemed to sit up a little bit, paying close attention to what happened next. The man in question didn’t feel any different, maybe relief, so he kept going.

“I really really like you, like an abnormal amount. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? You asked me that, didn’t you, why I was with you and not with my family. I didn’t really want to admit it back then, but this? This weird ghost-talking-through-a-curtain crap? It’s the closest I’m ever going to get to a life with you Ry. And I know that sounds pathetic, and stupid, and if you could hear me right now you’d probably be laughing, but I don’t think I’d mind. Cause it’s you, y’know… It’s always been you…”

Dylan trailed off, slowly pulling his hand away from Ryan. He couldn’t bare to look up, his gaze fixed firmly on the carpet below him. He could almost feel the harsh material digging into this palm. The trio remained silent for a few minutes, waiting with bated breath for anything to change.

“…Dylan?”

“Still here Kait.” He confirmed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Ryan seemed to perk up, unlocking his phone and pointing the camera at Dylan. He had an unreadable expression on his face, though this wasn’t new to Dylan, it seemed different somehow; more reserved than usual. The camera confirmed it, the distorted figure of Dylan displayed on the screen in front of them.

“Right then,” Kaitlyn concluded, slapping her knees as she got up to her feet. The two boys did the same, eager to follow. “We’ve got some investigating to do.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out, there wasn’t much the trio could figure out. They’d found a system where Dylan was more easily able to communicate through Kaitlyn, now that he had someone who could finally hear him, and promptly used it to annoy the hell out of his friend. By the end of the week, he could see the regret on Kaitlyn’s face for having come all this way to sort out the ‘ghost problem’.

“I’m going to kill him,” she announced, storming into Ryan’s room after Dylan had just spent the last ten minutes reciting all the lyrics that he could remember to every Imagine Dragons song on the planet.

“He’s already dead,” said Ryan, who remained undisturbed on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, leaning back against the opposite wall and throwing her head backwards until an audible thump was heard.

“I’m going to resurrect him so I can kill him again,” she eventually concluded, throwing up a middle finger in the general direction of Dylan, who was standing in the doorway giggling.

Ryan only offered a small hum, eyes glued to his screen. The boy had been acting differently since the ‘confession’, more subdued, if that was even possible for Ryan. It was making Dylan angsty, he was eager to properly speak to the man and to ask him what was wrong instead of having to rely on Kaitlyn to translate his every thought. It was infuriating, also because he had no idea what was actually going on with his friend.

“Listen, okay, I have an idea,” that got Ryan’s attention, finally causing his eyeline to lift from his phone screen to Kaitlyn, who stood with a small, smug smile. That was never a good sign.

“An idea?”

“An idea, huh?” Dylan echoed, folding his arms. “Is this a stupid idea?”

“Shut up,” she hissed at Dylan, turning her attention fully towards Ryan. “We’ve tried everything we can think of to get Dylan back-“

“You mean you’ve tried every Wikihow article you can find-“

“Dylan, shut up, I’m getting there,” she complained again, rolling her eyes with annoyance. At least it drew a small smile from Ryan, which Dylan considered a win.

“I think there’s one last thing we can try, or at least before I have to go back home.”

“Oh?” Ryan questioned, eyeing the general area where he knew Dylan was standing. He accidently locked eyes with the ghost, who immediately yelped and blushed, despite not actual being seen.

“Yeah, ‘oh’… you might not like it though,” Kaitlyn admitted, suddenly too nervous to keep eye contact with Ryan. She looked down at the floor for a second, gathering the nerve before resuming their staring contest. Ryan sat up a little straighter, suddenly paying attention.

“Hit me.” Kait sighed and nodded.

“Dylan ‘died’ at camp, right?”

The boy in question huffed and rolled his eyes. “Died is a strong word, they never even found my body.”

“Exactly!” Kaitlyn replied, confusing Ryan who was still only getting one side of the conversation.

“Wait, what’s ‘exactly’?”

“They never found Dylan’s body. He doesn’t even remember dying. He says there are no scars on his body, no indication that the wolves ever got him. What if this isn’t your classic haunting situation?”

Ryan and Dylan had matching confused looks on their faces as they tried to understand what Kaitlyn was implying.

The girl rolled her eyes at the confused boys, kicking herself away from the wall to pace around the room. “Look, we already know that by the rules of Hackett’s Quarry or whatever, people who are ‘dead’ can totally come back, look at the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry or whatever. She haunted the whole camp!”

“Your point being…?”

“Dylan,” she drew the ghost’s attention quickly, pointing in his direction. “You said you remember stumbling upon a clearing, correct? One you’d never seen before?”

“…yeah?” He hesitantly replied.

Kaitlyn smirked and clicked her fingers, like she had just solved a puzzle. “I bet this has something to do with that, with the Hag!”

Ryan stayed silent for a few more moments, taking it all in. “…and that means?”

“That means, boys, that we need to take a road trip.”

Silence filled the room.

“…no, not in a million years.”

“But Ry-“

“Kaitlyn. I am not going back to camp.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

They went back.

It only took some pleading on both Kaitlyn and Dylan’s part to get Ryan to sit himself in the backseat of Kaitlyn’s car, swaying along to the bumpy ride as he listened to music through his headphones. Dylan sat in the front seat, just happy to be out of the house for once. He absentmindedly chatted along with Kaitlyn, who was happy to talk. They’d both deeply missed each other.

The car grew silent as the trio pulled up to the treeline, spotting the top of the lodge poking out of the trees. Kaitlyn’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as they came to a stop, Ryan pulling out his headphones to pay attention. Dylan took a deep breath to steady his nerves before exiting the car.

“Welp… home sweet home, right guys?” Kaitlyn rolled her eyes while Dylan’s comment went unnoticed by Ryan, who has been silent since the ride had started. There wasn’t much that could be said as the three of them looked around the place, trying to find any evidence that could help them get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Is anyone even here?” Kaitlyn said out loud, breaking the silence. Ryan was the one that broke it next.

“The Hacketts thought it best to leave the camp for a little while, at least until next summer. It’s just us.” He confirmed, looking more and more uncomfortable as the minutes stretched on. Dylan was feeling extremely guilty at this point, hating that his friends were putting themselves in this traumatic situation for his sake.

He looked out into the trees, in the general direction of where he had come from that morning to find the police pulling up to the lodge. He couldn’t quite describe it, but he started to feel a small pull towards the trees, like a rope tightening deep inside his chest being lightly tugged. He’d learned at this rate it was probably a good idea not to ignore any weird, supernatural shit going on, and he certainly wasn’t about to disobey.

“Hey guys, I have an idea,” he said, getting Kaitlyn’s attention. She walked up to him to speak, but he quickly interrupted her. “I think I have to go. Alone?”

“Alone?” Kaitlyn questioned, a clear expression of concern on her face. Even Ryan looked worried now, jogging up to stand beside her.

“What’s he saying?”

“He’s saying he has to go somewhere alone.”

“What- Dylan that’s a terrible idea!”

“I know, I know, I just-“ The ghost sighed, trying his best to ignore the tugging as it began to grow stronger. “I just have this feeling, tell him Kait, I have to try, y’know? You guys came all this way, I have to follow my gut.”

The girl in question didn’t look very convinced, but did as instructed and relayed Dylan’s message to Ryan. He didn’t look convinced either, but both parties knew there was no dissuading Dylan once he has his heart set on something.

“Okay just- come here for a sec,” Ryan stepped forward, holding out his hand for Dylan to take. It took him a few seconds to even realise what Ryan was doing, but after a rather poignant look from Kaitlyn in his general direction, he quickly got with the program and placed his hand in Ryan’s, trying with every ounce of effort that he had not to let it completely slide through. Ryan seemed to react to this, straightening up and closing his eyes.

“Be careful, okay?” He almost whispered, so quiet only him and Dylan could hear. “Come back to me in one piece.”

Dylan’s breath hitched, his chest tightening in a bundle of nerves. It took him a few seconds to even reboot his brain enough to respond, despite the fact he knew he wouldn’t be heard.

“I promise,” Dylan replied, speaking loud enough for it to be heard by Kaitlyn to relay back to the boy. Ryan seemed to be satisfied after this, taking a step back and saluting in Dylan’s direction with two fingers.

“Good luck Casper.”

Dylan laughed, returning the salute, before turning away from the pair and following the tug of his chest.

It took him deeper and deeper into the forest, and before he had even realised, Dylan had walked so much he’s become completely lost. Despite not recognising any of the tree patterns around him, the constant tugging in his chest gave him hope that he was still going the right way. In the back of his mind, he recognised this feeling as the same feeling from that night when he was running from the wolf, fleeing into the woods without direction in mind. He prayed that was a good thing.

If he was alive, his feet probably would have been bleeding by the time the tugging finally let up. Dylan broke out of a small, calm trance he had been in when he realised he was unintentionally coming to a stop. He looked around him, taking in his surroundings. Unsurprisingly, he was in the clearing from that night, the one where he had, presumably, lost his life.

In the centre of the grass stood a woman. An old woman. She looked conflicted to see Dylan, though not surprised. He somehow knew exactly who she was.

“The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry.” He said as much, it seemed to escape him as soon as the thought processed in his head. The woman tusked at his words, shaking her head in disappointment.

“Watch your mouth, boy,” she warned him, gesturing him to come forward. Dylan didn’t realise his feet were moving until he was suddenly stood a few feet away from the witch, gazing into her dead eyes. “You came here sooner than expected.”

“I guess so… It wasn’t exactly on my social calendar,” he joked, very uncomfortable. The woman seemed to revel in this discomfort.

“It is not important,” she concluded, sighing as her head fell backwards to gaze up at the sky. The sun had started to set since Dylan found himself in the woods, the clouds hiding a beautiful shade of pink and orange behind them.

“Not important?” He asked.

The hag gazed back at him with a sad smile. “I have lost my son to these woods twice. I thought perhaps an eye for an eye would satisfy my fury.”

She took a step forward and raised her hand to cup Dylan’s jaw. The boy in question remained frozen under her touch, afraid that if he dared to move she would kill him for good this time with just a snap of her finger.

“…I’m assuming I’m the eye, then.”

“Yes.” Said the hag. “Your death caused great pain, they mourned you more than I had expected. It was perfect.”

Contradicting her words, the woman didn’t seem to be happy with this conclusion. Her expression was sad, disappointed even.

“…but it wasn’t enough,” Dylan concluded, watching the witch grit her teeth.

“No. It will never be enough.” She said, taking a small step back from Dylan. She placed her hand on his chest. It didn’t go through his skin like the others, instead it sat there as solid as ever. It almost made Dylan want to cry, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was still incredibly confused and terrified. “Silas is gone. I cannot get him back through your pain.”

“…okay?”

The witch rolled her eyes again, pressing a little harder into Dylan’s skin.

“You exhaust me, boy.”

That was the last thing Dylan heard before she pushed him, a hard shove to the chest that send him tumbling to the floor. He felt a sharp pain in his back, a yell that he was barely able to recognise as his own, and then darkness.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Dylan finally opened his eyes again, he felt a severe case of déjà vu wash over him. He was laying in the woods, cold and shivering, with the sun shining bright in the sky. It was morning.

“SHIT-“ Without a second thought, Dylan scrambled to his feet and shot off running through the trees. Whatever the witch had done, it had knocked him out for the entire night. That meant that Ryan and Kaitlyn had been waiting for him for hours, alone in the camp that had traumatised then not a few months earlier, only for him not to return. Or even worse, what if they had left him, convinced he had gotten himself fully killed and that he was never coming back. He didn’t know how to get to Ryan’s house from here, what the fuck was he going to do?

He didn’t even register how his chest started to ache as he ran, nor the way his feet cried out for him to stop running as twigs and rocks dug into the holes in his trainers.

He didn’t stop until he saw the edge of the woods appear in front of him. Finally, he broke through the treeline, stumbling to a clumsy stop as he fell to the floor.

“Fuck, oh god, I really need to do more cardio,” Dylan concluded, trying his best not to start dry heaving into the grass. He sat there, starring down at the ground as he caught his breath – his breath!

“Oh god, oh my god!” Dylan cried, pushing down any hopes that had started to rise up upon realised that he was breathing; actually breathing. He needed to find Ryan and Kaitlyn, and fast.

Luckily for him, as Dylan was getting to his feet, he heard the door to the lodge fly open and two pairs of shoes climbing down the creaky steps. He looked up and instantly spotted his friends, dressed in the same clothes as last night, running out of the building with guns in hands.

“You heard something?” He heard Ryan say, scanning the trees as he did so. Kaitlyn was nodding, stood not too far away from him.

“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”

“…was it-“

“I don’t know Ry, I couldn’t tell, but I’m pretty sure it was a voice.”

Dylan stood there, watching his friends examine their surroundings. He knew as soon as he moved away from the trees that he would be in the perfect spot for them to see him, that is, if he was actually alive. If whatever the witch did had worked and he was back. Dylan could have ran, could have screamed and cried to get Ryan to see him, but instead he just stood there. He was frozen in fear, fear that he was still dead. What if this was just a big trick to get even more pain out of him for the hag to feed off of. What if she was just letting him believe that he was alive, only to tear that hope away from him like that same morning.

Dylan wasn’t sure he could do that again.

But there in front of the lodge stood Ryan. His friend, his partner. He looked terrified as he searched for Dylan, close to breaking out into a sprint at any moment. He was fidgeting, snapping at Kaitlyn to keep looking as if she wasn’t doing that already. He was nervous, he was excited, he was scared.

Dylan didn’t like seeing Ryan scared. He took a step forward.

Then another… and then another.

Soon, he was running. He was running towards Ryan.

It took the boy roughly three seconds for his gaze to lock onto Dylan.

“Dyl-“ whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Dylan crashing into him, throwing his long limbs around the shorter boy and squeezing the life out of him. He was sobbing as he heard Ryan drop his gun without a second thought, curing himself around the boy as they collapsed to the floor.

“You’re okay, you’re okay Dylan,” he could hear Ryan soothing him, his calm, stable voice reassuring Dylan that this was real, that he was alive, that he was okay. Above them, he heard Kaitlyn gasp and cover her mouth to keep her sobs quiet. He wanted to stand up and hug her so badly, but the idea of leaving Ryan’s warm embrace brought him to tears all over again. He wasn’t able to get any coherent words out, so Ryan spoke for him.

“You’re back Dyl, you’re safe. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Dylan smiled, hiding his face in Ryan’s hair. He wasn’t ashamed to take a deep breath in, his chest filling with love at the smell of his friend’s shampoo. God, he’d missed smelling. “…did you just sniff me?”

Dylan laughed and nodded against Ryan. “Yeah man, you smell good.”

Ryan chuckled in response, giving Dylan a little squeeze of encouragement. His knees were digging into the dirt on the ground, enough to leave marks, but he didn’t care; he’s wear them with pride. He was with Ryan and Kait, he was alive.

He was so overwhelmed that he almost missed the small whisper from Ryan that was muffed against his chest. Confused, he finally pulled away enough to sit back on his knees, locking eyes with Ryan. It felt almost weird to have someone finally able to look at him, not through him. He opened his mouth to question what Ryan had just said, but was cut off.

He didn’t know what he had expected to feel when kissing Ryan for the first time. Well, technically it was their second kiss, but the firepit didn’t count. This was their first real kiss, there was so dare, no pressure, it was just them. He relaxed into it easily, ignoring the way his brain was screaming with delight over this sudden development, and melted into Ryan. He placed his hand over Ryan’s cheek, tilting his head to the side for a better angle.

They stayed connected for a few more seconds before finally breaking away, pressing their foreheads together as they caught their breath and let themselves decompress. Dylan noticed at the back of his mind the fact that Kaitlyn had left them a while ago to give them privacy, something he’d definitely owe her for later.

“What was that?” He finally broke the silence, unable to take it anymore. Ryan simply smiled.

“I love you too.”

If the kiss hadn’t broken Dylan, those four words definitely did.

“…I’m sorry, I think I just died all over again.” Ryan gave him a small shove for that, but only rolled his eyes affectionately.

“I said I love you and that’s what you say, really?”

“Listen man, a few months ago I would be convincing myself I was dreaming right now.”

“You’re not. You’re real Dylan- this is real.” Ryan reassured him, interlocking their fingers to squeeze. Dylan had so many questions, so many things he needed to know about. He could tell Ryan knew this too, and that they would be spending the next few weeks talking everything out fully. But right now, he didn’t care. There wasn’t a single thing in the world that could ruin this moment.

He simply nodded and kept his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin the moment. He rested his forehead against Ryan’s, basking in the way he could keep the man’s pulse and heartbeat clear as day.

“This is real.”

“Yeah man. It is.”