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For him. I hope he’s miserable. I hope it haunts him, because God knows it haunts me.
-
“He likes you, you know.” Jacob says flatly.
Ryan does a double take towards Jacob, his head snapping from the door Dylan just left through to the sink where Jacob’s standing. Not because the statement is so shocking, but because Jacob is the one saying it. After 4 weeks, Ryan was used to Emma’s meddling and Nick’s dirty jokes about the two of them. He was used to the way Abi would subtly find reasons for the two of them to work on tasks together and how Laura and Max would find ways to compare the two of them to their relationship. He was used to Kaitlyn making fun of their inability to ask each other out. But Jacob was new.
“I know.” Ryan confirms hesitantly, mostly because he doesn’t know how else to answer. He can’t work out what response Jacob is looking for. “Everyone knows.” He says with half a smile, just in case this was the first time Jacob was picking up on it.
“Yeah, well, if you know then maybe you don’t act like such an ass about it.” Jacob says, he keeps his back to Ryan while he continues washing the dishes, so when Ryan turns in place from where he’s paring Tupperware to lids and glares at Jacob, he just ends up staring daggers into the back of his head. Okay, so not only has Jacob noticed, he’s observed enough to feel like he can comment on the situation.
Ryan sighs and puts the last container on the pile of allergy safe snacks. “What’s that supposed to mean, man?”
Jacob turns to face him now, jaw tight. “I don’t know. I don’t know!” He exclaims, shaking the water off his hands. “Just don’t string the guy along, if you don’t like him just tell him that.”
“Who said I didn’t like him?” Ryan bites back defensively. His teeth clamp down on his lower lip, but it’s too late, the words are out there. Not that Ryan didn’t think people had already guessed that he reciprocated Dylan’s feelings, but saying them out loud was different. He hadn’t meant to confirm or deny anything, it felt too committal. “I just mean… don’t assume…” Ryan trails off with a huff, trying and failing to explain himself.
Jacob frowns, face quickly shifting to a confused smile. “Then what’s the problem dude? Just ask him out.”
“It’s not that simple.” Ryan responds, turning back to the containers on the table in front of him. He reaches for one and clicks the lid open only to close it again, desperate for something to do with his hands.
“I know, okay, I know it’s not. We’re only here for the summer, long distance is hard, but you’ve gotta try right.” Jacob says hopefully, and Ryan hears him take a step closer. Of course to Jacob, hopeless romantic that he is, the fleeting nature of the summer would be the only obstacle to overcome. It’s not that simple Ryan thinks again, searching for a clever excuse to give Jacob, but instead those four words echo round his head.
“Look man-” Ryan starts, but as he turns to look at Jacob he feels the other man’s hand on his shoulder. It’s not a tight, threatening grip, it’s presence is barely a pressure on Ryan’s shoulder, but it’s enough. Ryan feels his heart start quickly hammering in his chest, and a cold chill crawls over his skin. He flinches away from the touch and backs away from Jacob as much as he can, metal countertop pressing into his back as he pushes his body as far away from Jacob as possible. “Don’t- don’t-” He says it louder than he means to. He catches his breath staring at the floor, unable to meet Jacob’s gaze at first. When he looks up he sees Jacob, brow furrows and hands raised. “Just leave it okay?” Ryan finishes, sliding away from Jacob until he’s no longer pinned against the table.
He leaves the kitchen quickly, only stopping once as he hears Jacob’s hushed voice behind him. “Dick.”
Ryan doesn’t stay to respond, just gets to the front doors of the lodge as quickly as he can, hearing the kitchen doors slam closed behind him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the elastic band he took from Mr H’s office, one of the thick, flat ones. He slips his hand into the hole and pings back the elastic band, sending it snapping back onto his wrist hard. The pain makes him winces slightly, but it also grounds him, and he feels his body slowly righting itself. He snaps it another time, the harsh sting drawing all his attention to the fire dancing on his skin. It’s done, the panic is over, he feels okay. He snaps the elastic band again, he doesn’t need to, but he does it anyway. He snaps it another time, indulges in the pain it leaves behind. He pulls it back once more and-
“Oh, hey Ryan.” Dylan’s voice sounds cheerily from the open doorway. Ryan twists round to face him, but keeps his arm out of sight, holding it behind himself.
“Hey.” He replies flatly with a halfhearted smile, unable to think about much beyond the way his forearm stings.
“Are you done with meal prep already?” Dylan asks, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “Impressive.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ryan reaches his other hand round his back and slips his fingers under the elastic band, gently removing it from his wrist and slipping it into his back pocket.
Ryan expects Dylan to make a crude joke about “working fast”, but he doesn’t. Instead Dylan gives Ryan a soft smile. The bright morning light behind Dylan shines through his hair, illuminating the boy in a soft halo and bouncing off his sharp features. Ryan can’t help but smile back. “I, um,” Dylan starts with a clear of his throat, “I grabbed that meal schedule that Jacob wanted, would you mind giving it to him?”
“Yeah, su-” Ryan’s arm twitches at his side as he moves to reach for the A4 plastic wallet in Dylan’s outstretched hand. The ache is still dull against his skin, and it’s enough to remind him. “No, I, um, I don’t wanna go back in there.” He says quickly, he racks his brain for any kind of excuse, but nothing comes.
“Aw come on, Jacob can’t smell that bad right?” Dylan laughs, and that’s the kind of response Ryan was expecting. Dylan’s smile falters and a look Ryan can’t read flicks across his face. Dylan opens his mouth and then promptly shuts it again. Ryan holds his breath for a second, sure that Dylan’s going to push the subject, but he doesn’t. “Allow me.” He says, placing that bright smile back on his face. He moves around Ryan, the lodge door closing behind him and returning the quiet corner Ryan’s standing in to darkness. Dylan pulls the kitchen door open, and brings a hand up to his face. “Oh, dude that’s foul.” He says to Jacob dramatically, shooting Ryan a wink. Ryan doesn’t stick around for Jacob’s confused response, he slides out the front doors and heads for the cabins. He sneaks a glance down at raised, red skin on his arm and lets out a shaky sigh. He’d been doing so well too.
-
The thin striped bruises on Ryan’s arms had finally faded. He likes that it’s almost a very real metaphor for a clean slate. He’s going to do better this time.
As Ryan is collecting the paper scraps left over from art class, he slips the rubber band out his pocket and chucks it in the handful of trash he’s picked up. Losing one of his only coping mechanisms, as unhealthy as it is, is terrifying. But it’s for the best, he tells himself as he watched it fall into the mini trash can. He’s proud of himself.
“I know that smile.” Max says, moving round to Ryan’s side of the table.
I bet you don’t, Ryan thinks to himself, but he keeps that to himself. “Oh yeah?” He asks.
“Come on, man.” Max sighs, “It’s Dylan, right?”
Ryan’s face falls. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.” He hasn’t stopped thinking about Dylan all week, but after what happened with Jacob, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to pull Dylan into this mess with him.
“But, you do like him?” Max presses.
“Max-” Ryan says warningly, but someone also says Max’s name at the same time.
“Laura’s looking for you.” Dylan says from the doorway, drumming on the wood as he speaks.
“Sure, I’ll be right there.” Max says to him, shooting Ryan a knowing smile. “I’m just gonna…” he says, gesturing to the small gap between Ryan and the table full of scrap paper.
“Oh, sorry man, let me just move-” Ryan says, trying to push one of the child sized chairs in so he can move away, but he can’t tuck it under the table quick enough.
“No don’t worry, I can squeeze through.” Max says, waving his hand dismissively. Ryan wants to protest, but Max is already pushing his way through the gap between Ryan and the table. The moment probably only lasts a second or two at most, but for Ryan the seconds drag on like hours.
All his senses are flooded with the inescapable feeling of a body pinning him to the wall. Everything is too hot, like his skin is on fire. His breathing becomes shallow as he tries to shrink himself into the wall, praying that his body dissolves into the wood behind him, but it doesn’t happen.
Max murmurs out a brief thanks and then keeps moving along, but the sound is muffled by the blood rushing through Ryan’s ears. He keeps himself pressed against the wall, rooted to the spot. The most movement he can manage is reaching his arms around himself, squeezing his biceps as hard as he can, hoping the sensation will break the trance.
“Ryan?” It’s Dylan’s voice. Dylan is still here. Ryan turns his head towards the sound and tries to focus his eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Ryan answers, he feels the smile on the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t come with any kind of real feeling.
“Do you know where the ice pack is?” Dylan asks. “For one of the kids.”
Ryan blinks a few times as the words settle in. “The- the ice pack? Shit, yeah, um…” he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to the door. “I think there’s one in the nurses station… or the kitchen.” He states.
“Cool, thanks man.” Dylan says with a wide smile. He follows Ryan through the lodge and into the kitchen.
Ryan pulls the ice pack from the freezer and turns to face Dylan. “Who’s hurt?”
“Oh, I think someone from Kaitlyn’s group, I don’t know… I think…” Dylan says vaguely, running over to the lodge doors. Ryan follows him out the doors, coming to stand next to him on the wooden deck. “They were over there. Guess they’re not anymore.” Dylan says with a shrug.
“You don’t seem very concerned?” Ryan questions, a genuine smile creeping onto his face.
“No, I’m sure it was just a little tumble or something.” Dylan says dismissively. He leans on the wooden railing and takes a deep breath, letting the afternoon breeze fill his lungs. Ryan unconsciously does the same. The ice pack makes the skin of his palms tingle and the fresh air clears his head. And suddenly Ryan realises he isn’t panicking anymore.
“Dylan…?” Ryan asks, giving him a suspicious look.
“Yeah?” Dylan replies innocently.
“Thanks.” Ryan sighs.
“For what?” Dylan laughs.
“Uh, nothing, I don’t know.” Ryan blushes as he speaks, averting his eyes when he finds himself staring into Dylan’s.
“It’s no problem.” Dylan says, extending a hand forward to take the ice pack. Ryan hands it over and Dylan returns a warm smile. He reaches his free hand out, like he’s about to pat Ryan’s shoulder, but then draws it back, giving him finger-guns. “See ya.”
Ryan gives him a little wave goodbye and turns back to lean on the railing. He bites his lip but can’t stop the smile spreading across his cheeks. He gently touches his upper arm and wonders what it would’ve been like if Dylan had touched him. Maybe that isn’t such a scary thought.
-
Lights out was two hours ago. The snores of the other counsellors fill the cabin, but Ryan can’t hear them over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Lying in the uncomfortable camp bed, devoid of any distraction, Ryan can’t stop his mind from wandering down a dark path. He tries to think of anything else, tries to think of nothing, but it always creeps back in. He replays it over and over again. He’s aware of his fingernails digging deeper into his own arms, but he can’t feel the sensation; all he can feel is breath on his neck and fingertips on the back of his thigh. Soon the sound of blood pumping in his ears is replaced by whispering, too quiet to make out more than the tone the words are spoken in. He recognises the voice as his own, anger laced into his words, as he repeats to himself, ‘You’re sick. You can’t stop thinking about it. You wanted it.’
Ryan’s breathing quickens as the guilt and panic sets in. Internally his body is on fire, chest tighten, palms sweating, stomach turning, but externally Ryan doesn’t move. He’s tired. So tired. But he can’t sleep. Not while this tape keeps repeating.
The voice changes, warping into a distorted sound, and all too quickly Ryan recognises it as his voice. It’s Cole’s voice. It says ‘I love you, Ryan. I want to see you, Ryan.’ and Ryan feels the bile rise in his throat.
He wants to shut the voice up. He wants to stop the incessant whispering. He wants to wrap his hands around Cole’s neck and squeeze until he stops speaking. Stops breathing.
The vision swims behind Ryan’s eyelids, blurry at first, but becoming brighter and bolder until it doesn’t just look real, it feels real. He pushes Cole off him, both hands connecting with the other boy’s chest with a thud. Cole looks at Ryan with disbelief in his eyes, and Ryan revels in the expression for a second, before drawing back his right arm and then swinging it with force towards Cole’s face. Cole’s lip splits and his face twists in agony as blood pours from his mouth.
But he doesn’t go down.
So Ryan hits him again, square in the nose. Cole raises his hands to his face as he stumbles backwards, then extends a blood soaked hand towards Ryan, palm flat as he tries to get him to stay back. Ryan bats his outstretched hand away and continues moving towards the injured boy, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs, forceful enough to finally put Cole on the floor.
Cole’s eyes go wide at the sight of Ryan stood tall above him. Ryan’s breathing is steady and calm as he moves towards where Cole is lying, and Cole tries to move quickly across the floor, dragging his body behind him as he crawls. Cole simply can’t move away fast enough, and in 3 long strides Ryan is above him, kneeling astride his back. Ryan grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks back, hearing a definite rip as he does so.
“Get off me!” Cole splutters, words garbled by the blood pooling in his mouth. Hearing his voice is enough to spike Ryan’s rage again.
“That’s what I said to you. Remember?” Ryan replies through gritted teeth, tears burning in the corners of his eyes. Cole doesn’t get a chance to respond, Ryan uses the hand buried in his hair to drive his face into the ground, blood spraying from the fresh split on Cole’s brow bone over the carpet of Ryan’s bedroom. He does it again, so hard that the shockwave reverberates through his arm. Then he does it again. And again. Until Cole doesn’t have much of a face left.
Ryan sits up quickly, springs of the shitty cabin bunk mattress creaking under the movement. He tries to shake the violent images in his mind, horrified by the fact that they were so easy to conjure up. He feels disgusted, appalled, he feels…
Okay.
He feels okay.
Yes, he feels repulsed at himself, but his body is calm. There’s a thin layer of sweat still coating his skin from his panic attack, but he’s not shaking, not hyperventilating, not crying anymore.
Isn’t it better than hurting myself? He thinks to himself. A small moment of imagined catharsis vs the very real self harm he’s endure as a result of what Cole did? That doesn’t make him a monster does it? Imagining killing Cole does not make me a monster, he thinks.
If only he could believe that. He tells himself how abhorrent he is, and then replays the vision twice more before he goes to sleep.
-
“Truth or dare, Ryan?” Nick’s voice pulls Ryan out of his thoughts. He looks up from the beer bottle he was nervously peeling the label off of, and instead turns his gaze towards the Australian.
He’d found himself doing that a lot more lately, spacing out. Sometimes he was completely lost in thoughts and memories. Sometimes he just… wasn’t there anymore. His body keeps breathing but his mind is blank. It had been the former this time, and Ryan tries to orientate his mind back to the present, away from thoughts of Cole.
“Uh, truth.” He says with a nervous smile. There are a few awkward sighs and a clear of the throat from the group, and Ryan looks round confused.
“Oh. Truth. Okay.” Nick replies. “What’s the furthest you’ve ever went with someone? If you know what I mean?”
“God, Nick, obviously he knows what you mean.” Emma laughs.
Ryan looks down at his beer bottle again as he thinks, making sure to make little thoughtful hums so they know he’s not zoned back out again. He could tell them the truth; he’s never done anything with anyone. Not voluntarily.
Not voluntarily.
The words echo round his head and he struggles to think about anything else again.
It’s Dylan’s voice that ends up pulling him out of his spiral this time, soft and gentle when he says “Let’s have a different question… maybe?”
“So you forfeit, Ryan?” Emma interjects, looking a little too pleased for Ryan’s liking.
“Uh, I guess. What’s the forfeit?” He asks.
“Well it’s…” She pauses, eyes flicking to the side as she clearly thinks through what to say next. “It comes with a choice.”
“Is one of the options ‘stop playing’.” He jokes, only to have her narrow her eyes at him.
“You can either kiss Kaitlyn. Or you can kiss Dylan.” Emma offers.
Ryan finds a smile creeping onto his face at the mention of Dylan’s name, despite the circumstances. “Uh, Dylan. Let’s go.” Ryan says nervously.
There are a couple of whistles from the other counsellors and Dylan wiggles happily in his seat before he stands up. Ryan can feel his heart beating excitedly in his chest, smile tugging at the corners off his mouth. Dylan gets a little closer. Has he always been that… tall? It’s… a little overwhelming. Ryan can feel his heart beating nervously in his chest, smile falling from his face. Dylan must notice Ryan’s reaction, because he stops in his tracks.
“You feeling okay man?” He asks. He speaks in a hushed tone, trying not to draw too much attention to them, despite the rest of the group already watching them intensely.
“Yeah, I- I think I’ve just had too much to drink.” Ryan replies, the weight of the half finished beer in his hands threatening to tell on his lie.
“Oh, well I’m not even slightly drunk.” Dylan says, holding his hands up and taking a step back. “I should not kiss you. For sure. Nope.” He says, to Ryan’s, and everyone else’s, surprise.
“What?” Emma scoffs.
“What are you on about?” Laura laughs, disbelief slipping into her voice.
“Consent, Laura? Haven’t heard of it? It’s sexy.” Dylan replies sarcastically.
The chatter in the group increases as the discussion about Ryan’s level of intoxication gets more heated. Still reeling from his almost-kiss with Dylan, Ryan stands. “I’m gonna…” he trails off, pointing to the tree line by the fire pit, before realising nobody’s listening.
He uses the opportunity to move quickly away from the group, resting a couple of fingers on his pulse and willing his heart to calm down, desperately trying to stave off the incoming panic attack. He’s not aware of how far into the woods he’s walking, he just lets his feet carry him until he feels safe again. As much as he tries not to think about the feeling of Dylan’s tall frame towering over him, his brain keeps conjuring the suffocating feeling anyway. He leans his back against a tree and breathes deeply, feeling slightly better now nothing can sneak up behind him, as silly as the thought seems to him. The clothes on his body suffocate him as the persistent feeling of too close invades every inch of his body.
“Are you alright, Ryan?” Nick’s voice pulls his focus, but the underlying feeling of dread is still there.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, too much to drink.” Ryan manages to get the sentence out, but it’s a struggle. He’s hoping that whatever notes of panic slip through can be misread as the effects of the alcohol.
“It’s okay dude, you can talk to me. I know something’s up.” Nick presses, slowly getting closer to Ryan. His tone is comforting, but his presence is not, and Ryan feels his fight or flight kicking in, ultimately settling on freeze as his response.
“No, no, no, no, it’s all good. I just- just need a minute.” Ryan replies frantically, his voice no longer steady.
“No, you’re not, let me get someone, let me help.” Nick says soothingly. Another. Step. Closer. Ryan tries to back up, but the tree is solid against his back.
“Nick, just go. Leave me alone.” Ryan would wince at the harshness in his words if he could think of anything beyond the cold terror pumping through his body.
“Look, man, I think you’re having a panic attack. You need to breathe, okay?” Nick says. He’s close, too close. Ryan can’t bring his feet to move, they feel like lead attached to his legs. He wants to run, but he can’t move.
“You need to fuck off.” Ryan spits back. He doesn’t care about the unfriendly tone of his words anymore, anything to make Nick back off. “Don’t touch me.”
Nick doesn’t back off, he places his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, “Deep breath in.” He says, inhaling deeply to demonstrate, “Deep breath ou-”
Ryan’s fist connects with Nick’s jaw.
It’s not a clean punch, the blow glancing off his jawbone and barely making an impact, but it’s enough to cut off Nick’s sentence and make him stumble back. The night goes silent for a moment, even the crickets in the woods and the sound of Ryan’s beating heart drowned out by the weight of his actions.
“I’m sorry.” Ryan mumbles, but his voice sounds far away.
“What- what the fuck?” Nick says, the shock raising the pitch of his voice. He takes several steps back, eyes wide as he watches Ryan, then turns away, moving quickly towards the firepit.
Ryan turns and braces his palms against the tree trunk as he doubles over, feeling his stomach burn. He pulls his hand away from the bark and slams it back once sharply. The feeling reverberates through his arm. He draws his hand back again and makes a fist, connecting the side of his fist with the tree again. He does it again, feeling the rough bark scrape against the side of the forearm. It isn’t until both arms feel weak and raw that he stops, and finally notices the tears falling from his eyes. He wipes the tears from his cheeks and stumbles back away from the trunk.
He makes his way back to the firepit, and he can already hear the conversation as he gets closer.
“-then he just fucking hit me!” Nick finishes, wincing as Laura holds the beer bottle up to his jaw, letting the cold work to prevent the forming bruise.
Ryan swallows as he steps closer. His body still feels heavy, his mind still feels foggy, but he presses on in his daze. “Nick, I’m- I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean-”
“What the hell, Ryan!” Abi is the first of the group to speak up.
“I just panicked!” Ryan tries to explain, eyes fixed on the ground.
“You panicked, so you hit him?” Emma says in disbelief.
“I told him not to touch me, I just-” he starts, stopping when he hears the anger slipping back into his tone, the same anger that got him into this mess. He tries to steady his voice as he keeps talking. “I didn’t mean to hit him. I told him to back off, and when he wouldn’t, I freaked out…” He looks around the group as he trails off. He can’t defend himself without explaining everything to them. And he can’t bring himself to tell them. He wrings his hands together, and then strides away towards the boathouse.
“Ryan wait!” He hears Dylan’s voice call out to him.
“Just let him go dude.” Jacob mutters to Dylan, and Ryan thinks that maybe Jacob is right this time. He blinks the tears away and doesn’t turn back.
-
“Hey.” Dylan’s voice speaks softly as he appears at the entrance to the boathouse.
“Hi.” Ryan’s voice is hoarse when he speaks, betraying the 10 minutes of crying he just did.
“So. The whole thing with Nick.” Dylan says, taking a seat on the bench next to Ryan. Ryan keeps his eyes on the floor, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. He feels bad enough as it is, without having to see Dylan’s disappointment.
“I know, I just…” Ryan trails off, unable to find an excuse to tack onto the end of his sentence.
“I would’ve too.” Dylan says quietly with a shrug.
Ryan’s head slowly lifts to look at Dylan next to him. There’s no mischief in Dylan’s expression, no stupid joke about how annoying Nick is, just a genuine look of empathy.
“No, you wouldn’t.” Ryan scoffs with a laugh, “I don’t think you even know how to throw a punch.” He teases, desperately trying to alleviate some of the tension in between them.
Uncharacteristically for Dylan, he doesn’t let the tone lighten. He shifts in his seat, fidgeting nervously as he speaks again, “He got in your space, you told him to back off, he didn’t.” Dylan says simply.
“He was trying to help.” Ryan argues, against his defence.
“Doesn’t make a difference.” Dylan counters.
“Obviously it does.” Ryan scoffs, then immediately feels bad for taking out that frustration on Dylan when he’s only trying to help too. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ryan mutters burying his face in his hands.
“It’s okay.” Dylan says softly.
“It’s not. I’m- I’m so angry. And I hate it.” Ryan keeps his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. “I thought it was easier to be angry than sad, but it’s not, I just end up fucking hurting everyone around me. I think everyone would be better without me.”
Dylan tries to control his response, but Ryan hears the sharp intake of breath. “I don’t think that’s true.” He pauses for a minute, searching for the right words, but there aren’t right words. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel, Ryan. Angry or sad, just let yourself feel it.”
Ryan looks up at Dylan finally, cheeks still wet with tears, bags under his eyes deeper than they’ve ever been. “I’m tired. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” Ryan takes a deep breath in and continues, “I wanted a normal summer. It’s hard work and the kids are really annoying sometimes, but I loved it. And this year I just- I ruined it.” Ryan shakes his head.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Dylan says simply.
They’re both quiet for a moment. “I- I did want to kiss you.” Ryan whispers. “But I couldn’t.”
“Ryan, you don’t have to feel bad about not kissing me.” Dylan pauses. “If you’re not… ready, that’s okay.” Dylan looks at Ryan, searching his eyes for something, and Ryan feels the weight of Dylan’s choice of words on him. “If you need more time…” Dylan says with a shrug, dropping the sentence as Ryan stands and paces towards the other end of the boathouse.
“No, it’s- it’s not fair.” Ryan whimpers out, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Dylan stands, but he doesn’t move to follow Ryan.
“I know.” Dylan agrees, to Ryan’s surprise. He stays where he’s stood, looking on calmly at Ryan.
“I just- I just- I do like you!” Ryan blurts the sentence out as quickly as he can. “I want to have a normal crush. And I want to get excited about normal… crush stuff, but I-” he stops speaking as his voice cracks, determined not to completely break down in front of Dylan. “I do like you.” Ryan repeats quietly. “But…” he trails off, finally looking at Dylan.
Dylan moves closer and Ryan feels his body screaming at him to flee, but Dylan doesn’t walk up to Ryan. He just sits on the bench in front of him. Ryan feels his body calm itself, the buzz around his brain subsiding once Dylan sits down. He extends a patient hand up to Ryan, and Ryan takes a step forward to hold it.
“I had this… friend.” He starts. “He, um, he was my best friend, actually. For seven years. He came round to watch a movie and- fuck.” Ryan squeezes his eyes closed and fights back tears. It’s hard to think about, even harder to say, but he needs to say it. “We were just supposed to watch a movie. And he- he starts to put his hand up my shorts. I tell him to stop and I go to the bathroom and put my sweatpants on instead. I thought, maybe, it was me, that it was my fault. I don’t know.” Dylan’s brows turn up as sadness flashes across his face, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I came back in and he pushed my up against the wall and kissed me. And he, um, he also touched me… I tried to push him off, but he was taller than me. And I just couldn’t stop him.” Ryan can’t keep going, but he doesn’t need to. Dylan already knows. Dylan squeezes Ryan’s hand and the boathouse is silent for a minute while Ryan catches his breath.
“I was 16.” Dylan says calmly. There’s a sorrow in Dylan’s eyes that Ryan recognises; he’s seen it enough times in the mirror. “I met him in computer club, we, uh, we played chess together after school. There was one night, I was having a bad anxiety attack, so I message him. I tell him I need help and that I wish he was there with me, and you know what he says? He says ‘I don’t think I’d trust myself around you right now’. How fucked up is that?” Dylan laughs, but it sounds hollow. He blinks and swallows, looking away from Ryan and bouncing his leg. “I didn’t- I didn’t want to believe it. We hung out a few days later, after school. He- you know how this goes, Ryan. And all I could think about is that I should’ve seen it coming. I felt like such an idiot.” Dylan says.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Ryan whispers, as if it makes any difference. Dylan shakes his head, but lets the ghost of a smile flicker onto his face as he looks at Ryan.
“It wasn’t yours either.” He replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier.” He gives Ryan’s hand another squeeze. “But it does get easier, Ryan.”
Ryan shakes his head and looks down at the floor. “How?”
“It just takes time.” Dylan says softly. “I still get bad days, but the more time passes, the less frequent they are.” Ryan just furrows his brows in disbelief. “I played chess for the first time in 5 years the other day.” Dylan says hopefully.
Ryan looks up at him with sad eyes, but a small smile on the corner of his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, me and Max had a game, taught a couple of the fifth graders.” Dylan’s face lights up a little at the memory. “It brought up a lot of stuff, but I’m glad I did it, it felt like it was time. And guess what.”
“What?” Ryan asks hesitantly.
“I won.” Dylan replies with a grin. Ryan can’t help but blush and bite his lip at Dylan’s smile.
“So, you’re saying, maybe one day I’ll be able to finish watching The World’s End?” Ryan laughs, and Dylan laughs with him. “And I’ll be able to stand next to someone taller than me without having a panic attack?”
Dylan gives him a nod.
“I really like you, Dylan. I wish things were different… with me.” Ryan whispers.
Dylan worries his lip between his teeth and looks around the boat house. “Do you trust me?” He asks.
Ryan thinks about it for a second. It’s a lot to ask, and the vagueness of it makes his chest feel a little tight. But he does trust Dylan. “Yes.” He says tentatively.
“Awesome.” Dylan replies, and he swivels round on the bench before he stands up. He wanders over to the back cupboard and grabs the foam floats they use for teaching children to swim. He places a stack of 5 of them on the floor and takes a few steps back before gesturing to them with both hands.
Ryan cocks an eyebrow but makes his way over to the stack of floats. He tests it with one foot first, and he finds it’s about as unsteady as he expected, then he steps onto the makeshift platform. Dylan takes a slow step towards Ryan, testing the waters, until he’s in arms reach. The pile of floats give Ryan a good 4 inches on Dylan, he realises, noting the way Dylan has to tilt his head back to look at Ryan from under his eyelashes.
“How’s that?” Dylan asks.
“Um, tall? And wobbly?” Ryan replies, only mildly confused.
“Ah, perfect. Like 5 gnomes in a trench coat.” Dylan jokes, winking and mimicking the way Ryan is wobbling around.
The comment takes Ryan completely by surprise, the laugh tumbling out of him completely unexpectedly. His legs shake beneath him at the sudden movement and without thinking he places his hands on Dylan’s shoulders to steady himself. Dylan has the same idea, gently holding Ryan’s waist to stop him toppling over.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Dylan says quickly, taking his hands off Ryan’s body.
“It’s- it’s okay.” Ryan says, hands still on Dylan’s shoulders. Dylan’s eyes crinkle happily, dimple making a brief appearance on his cheek as he smiles. “You, um, you can put them back if you like.” He says, only a little nervous.
Dylan fights back a wide smile as he tentatively places his hands back on Ryan’s waist. “Is that okay?” He asks. Ryan nods, and Dylan wiggles happily.
“Dylan… can I kiss you?” Ryan asks, although he’s not really sure where the words are coming from.
Dylan’s eyes light up and Ryan can see him visibly brighten. “Really? Yes. I- yes, I’d like that. Th-thank you for asking.” He stutters out, blush spreading across his cheeks. “Are you sure, Ryan? You don’t have to be ready yet.”
“I am. You make me feel safe.” Ryan says, and for once the heavy heartbeats in his chest are excitement not dread.
Dylan shuffles forward, the closer he gets the more ridiculous the new height difference between them becomes, Ryan lets out a little chuckle as he ducks his head and Dylan stands on his tiptoes. Their lips meet, gently slotting together, and move softly in sync with each other. It’s a short kiss, sweet and innocent. They both pull back slowly, letting their noses brush and their foreheads touch.
“That was… the first kiss I got to choose.” Dylan says quietly, and Ryan feels the words tugging on his heart as his grip tightens around Dylan’s shoulders.
Ryan carefully steps off his makeshift platform. He looks up at Dylan, who’s back to being several inches taller than him, but he’s not scared anymore. He steps closer and leans his head on Dylan’s chest, and Dylan wraps his arms around Ryan. “Mine too.” Ryan whispers back to him.
“Can I be your second one?” Dylan asks, a touch of playfulness slipping back into his voice.
“Yes, of course.” Ryan says with a laugh, leaning his chin on Dylan’s sternum and looking up at him.
Their lips touch again and Ryan thinks that he’d like Dylan to be his third.
And fourth.
And fifth.
And so on, forever and ever.