Work Text:
Ryan looked down at the sleeping figure curled into him. The younger man was snoring softly and looked content. Even after all these years, he was afraid he’d lose him. He thought back to the first time he thought he’d lost him.
----------
It was an easy job. Small bank, low security, bad side of town. The crew didn’t even need the money, they just wanted to wreak havoc. Los Santos was their playground, so why not play in it? As it turns out, however, they picked the wrong bank to rob. A rival gang was also targeting the area, and they’d been down on their luck so they weren’t about to lose that cash. So down on their luck, in fact, that they’d even go up against the Fake AH Crew.
Everything was going according to plan, at first. Jack was waiting in the cargobob for their escape, Gavin and Michael had broken into the vault with little trouble, Geoff and Ryan were keeping watch of the hostages and the doors respectively, and Ray was on the roof, ready to snipe any resistance. Then it all went wrong.
Ryan heard gunshots behind him as alarmed shouts erupted from his earpiece.
“Michael, Gavin, get out of there!” Geoff shouted, “Everyone, to Jack!”
“What’s going on out there?” Michael cut in.
“Just go!” Geoff commanded.
Ryan turned around just in time to see Geoff hit the floor.
“Geoff’s down!” Ryan yelled. He shot the guy who shot Geoff as he ran over to where Geoff fell.
“It’s just my shoulder, I’ll be fine,” Geoff assured him with only a slight grimace. Michael and Gavin ran out of the vault to see Ryan helping Geoff up.
“Get him to Jack, she can patch him up,” Ryan instructed, “Jack, you there?”
“Jack here,” her voice crackled over the com.
“Be ready for Geoff, he needs medical attention. Get Caleb on the phone and tell him to be ready at the penthouse. I’ll stay behind and make sure Ray gets out safely,”
Ryan said as he stepped away from Geoff.
“Will do,” Jack responded.
“Stay safe out there, man,” Michael said.
“Come on Micoo, let’s get Geoff-” Gavin started, but was cut off as they heard Ray shout in alarm. There were sounds of a struggle followed by gurgling noises and a loud thud. Then a horrible screech sounded over the com, like a wire shorted out.
“Oh god, Ray!” Michael yelled.
Ryan took off through the bank, gunning down anyone who got in his way; cops, gang members, civilians. He didn’t care who he killed, he just needed to get to Ray. He was blinded with madness. He couldn’t think, one could argue that he wasn’t even conscious. Nothing else mattered. He was just a being of primal rage with one thought on his mind: Ray.
When Ryan made it to the roof, it was like he had hit a brick wall; his heart seemed to stop and his breathing was labored. He saw Ray, lying in a puddle of blood with a gash in his throat. The one who jumped him was standing over him, gloating that he killed The Brownman, Los Santos’s famous sniper.
Ryan let out a murderous scream. He ran at the man and let his fists fly. He was a blur of violence, hitting the guy with everything he had. His gun was left forgotten on the rooftop. A gun was too impersonal. Ryan wanted this guy to hurt. When he finally came back to himself, he kicked the man’s lifeless body one last time before turning to Ray.
Ryan tore off his mask and fell to his knees beside Ray, not caring that they were both covered in blood. He cradled Ray’s limp form in his arms and let out a loud sob. He screamed and wept. He had never hurt more than he did in that moment. He had been beaten nearly to death, he had been shot and tortured, and none of that even came close to the pain he felt. He cried harder than he ever has before or since. His body was wracked with horrible convulsions and tears flowed down his face, smearing his face paint.
He had failed. He promised he would protect Ray, and he had failed. He lost him and it was all his fault.
Ray was gone.
Ryan was alone again.
Ryan pulled out the knife Ray got him for his birthday. It had a rose growing around a skull engraved in it. He kissed Ray’s cold lips one last time before taking the knife to his own throat.
“I’m so sorry, Ray. I love you.”
--------------
Ryan was brought back to the present by Ray’s voice.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, sleep still thick in his voice.
“How beautiful you are,” Ryan joked, grinning down at him.
“Shut up. For real, what is it?” Ray butted his head into Ryan’s chest.
“The first time we died,” Ryan’s voice was somber.
Ray went silent for a while. He remembered it like it was yesterday, and he knew Ryan did as well. They all remembered the first time they died.
When Ray woke up after he died, he was wrapped in Ryan’s arms, with Ryan’s tears still drying on his face. They both woke up confused, but mostly just happy to be together. Soon after, they figured out that the whole crew was immortal. They could all die, but they’d always come back. They really couldn’t explain it, and they were always afraid it would run out. Some were more afraid than others.
“Hey,” Ryan said, snapping Ray out of his own reverie and tilting Ray’s face up to his, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Ray mumbled as their lips met.
They both fell asleep not long later, content that they would never lose each other.