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Despite the golden light filtering through the blinds, the harsh remnants of fright stayed clung to Dylan.
He didn’t know what he expected to happen.
The snarling from the freezer had long since died down, but he remained as far away as possible. He slid down the opposite wall, breaths still shaky as he wound his good arm around his knees.
Kaitlyn settled beside him. She sighed, surprisingly steady for the shit they just went through.
“Do you think…” Dylan cleared his throat. “Y’think the others are okay?”
“I hope so.” Kaitlyn’s voice, although expected, caused him to jolt. “I think everyone who turned should be okay… at least.”
“Yeah, I just-”
“ Guys! ”
Dylan scrambled up, heartbeat pulsing desperately against his sternum.
“Who is that?” He hissed at Kaitlyn. “Shit, shit, shit- Should- Should we let them in?”
“Settle down,” Kaitlyn grumbled, adjusting her hold on the gun. “Werewolves can’t speak.” But Dylan hid behind her, admittedly looking— and feeling —quite pathetic.
“It could be one of the hunters!”
When the door opened, it was to a wide-eyed and blood-covered Emma, who quickly shoved her way inside.
“Uh… Everything is… over…? Right?” Dylan piped up from his spot behind Kaitlyn, keeping out of view of the door.
Emma huffed, scrubbing aggressively at the blood coating her skin. “I think?”
That did absolutely nothing to ease Dylan’s nerves.
A stick cracked.
Dylan’s heart leapt to his throat. Something about how the other two remained oddly calm made him painfully repress the urge to scramble into a corner. He resorted to digging his nails, caked with blood and dirt, into his palm. Dylan’s left wrist twitched, and he was once again reminded of his new disability.
Good thing he was a righty.
He shook himself out of his stupor, planting a wavering smile on his face when he saw Jacob and Nick stumble through the door frame.
“Look who I found wanderin’ the woods!” Jacob, who was, for some reason still naked, clapped a hand onto Nick’s back. Nick groaned painfully, but still waved off the others as they doted over him.
“Holy shit !” Jacob’s eyes locked on his arm, the one severed at the wrist. “Or, uh… I’m… I’m glad you’re all okay!”
“You can mention it, man,” Dylan chuckled, weak and shaky, “I’m in the same boat as you, Jakey-boy.”
But Jacob didn’t push, he seemed focused on gathering each person in sight up in a tight hug. Dylan huffed when Jacob reached him, but accepted the comfort gratefully. His left arm hung limp at his side, useless and— as the adrenaline quickly eased —throbbing.
“ Dylan! ”
For what felt like the thousandth time that night, Dylan flinched back.
Ryan practically barreled into the room, almost knocking into Dylan, who was already moving forward at the familiar voice.
“Ryan…”
“ God , you’re okay-”
The panic that had been constricting Dylan’s chest, his veins, his everything , slowly unraveled when two trembling hands cupped his face. They barely had a moment of contact before Dylan’s tear ducts burned. Ryan seemed to notice the way the other’s chin quivered, and his lips twitched down.
“Come on,” He went to drag Dylan outside, whose breath instantly hitched.
Dylan practically begged, eyes wide and watery. “No- I, I can’t- Can we just stay inside?”
And so Ryan— sweet, accommodating Ryan —tugged him into one of the neighboring rooms.
“How’s the, uh, hand?”
“Rotting in that damn radio hut.” Dylan laughed humorlessly, before his forced smile fell as the gravity of his situation suddenly hit, and he knocked his head against the wall. “Fuckin’ hell-”
“Does it hurt?”
He settled on the floor, opposite the window, and looked down at his stump. Mangled, the flow of his blood held back by a handcrafted tourniquet. “Yeah, like a bitch, I guess the adrenaline is finally wearing off. And those painkillers.”
Ryan’s face contorted. “The paramedics better check you first.”
“I’d hope so.” Dylan chuckled.
Ryan sat beside him, linking their hands casually, so casually that Dylan almost began to doubt that they weren’t already dating.
“What about you?” Dylan said, voice oddly soft. “You get hurt?”
The other’s free hand seemed to shift automatically to rub at the side of his own rib cage, fiddling with a hole ripped into the fabric of his shirt. “I, uh… It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.” Dylan rested his head against the wall, shifting so he was fully facing Ryan. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, because, uh, then you’re free to just- just not talk about it. I don’t mind, really. I’m totally cool with just sitting here, or like, not just sitting h-”
Soft lips pillowed against his, chaste and dry, cutting Dylan’s rant off with an embarrassing yelp. He didn’t react in time, and the sensation left before he even registered it.
“Oh.”
Ryan was looking at him with those calculating eyes of his, only a thin slice of iris visible around blown pupils. “Sorry, you just…”
Ryan’s face was so close to his.
An uncharacteristic flush just barely brushed Ryan’s cheeks. “You’re just so cute when you ramble.”
Dylan reached up his right hand, nudging Ryan’s cheek, forcing him to lock eyes with him, and knotted his own brows. Careful pads ran over soft skin. Dylan could almost count Ryan’s lashes, thick and straight, fluttering as he blinked.
And, holy shit .
Before he could stop himself, Dylan slotted their lips, and mumbled into the kiss, “Shut up.”
Ryan smiled, lopsided and smug, and moved his mouth against Dylan’s. Unbelievably gentle for two boys tainted with blood and fresh pain, lips sliding leisurely over each other. Languid and tender, speaking silently into the other’s lungs. Dylan’s hand hovered hesitantly over Ryan’s chest. Ryan tugged softly at brown locks, pulling their lips apart.
Dylan’s eyes peeled open.
He slowly drank in the sight of Ryan. Lips swollen, half-lidded brown eyes drawing Dylan in.
“I,” Dylan croaked, raspy and shaking, “I’m…”
And his stupid stupid body decided that right then was a perfect time to send tears dripping down his cheeks.
Rivulets spilled, cutting through the film of blood coating him.
“Dylan?”
The tenderness of his voice cracked him further, and he curled over, hiding his face instinctively in the crook of Ryan’s neck. His fear, his panic, the panic that had been simmering just under the surface, began to boil. It bubbled over the sides, burning and scalding as it fell down his face, molten as it dripped from his chin.
“God-” Dylan gasped out between frantic breaths, burying himself closer to Ryan. “Sorry- I’m sorry-”
Ryan wrapped tense arms around Dylan’s middle, apprehension slowly melting away when Dylan nuzzled closer.
“Sorry, sorry,” Dylan continued whimpering.
Ryan’s hand cozied up in Dylan’s hair, untangling bloodied locks. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“It’s so fucking- so fucking stupid,” Dylan forced through clenched teeth. “I can’t- I haven’t been able to-” He took in a rough breath. “I can’t calm down . Everyone seems so- so over it already and it all ended like only three hours ago.”
“We’re all pretty shaken up, Dylan.” Ryan mumbled.
“No one else is showing it .” The words came out strangled. “It’s just- every sound is- it’s just all making me more anxious, and the thought of going outside? That’s just- I feel so suffocated inside but it’s too open and exposed outside and I just-” A sob broke out of him. “ I just don’t know what to do .”
“I… Everyone deals with shit differently.” The arms wrapped around his waist tightened, drawing him closer. “I'm on edge too, and obviously you’ll be a bit panicked with the whole, uh, arm-losing thing.”
Dylan chuckled, weak and wet, but a chuckle nonetheless.
“Your reaction is definitely justified,” Ryan said, muffled by Dylan’s tattered shirt, “I’m surprised not more people are reacting the same.”
“How are the… is everyone else okay? Do you know?”
“I know that Laura is okay, I haven’t seen Abi or, uh, or… is everyone else accounted for?”
“Jacob and Nick came back, and uh, Emma as well. Kaitlyn was obviously with me the whole time.”
“And Max is on the island, that’s what Laura said.”
Dylan hummed, breaking off from the hug with a sigh.
“Feeling better?” Ryan’s voice, low and comforting as ever, said.
“Yeah, just a bit.”
He knew he looked like a mess. Dishevelled and sticky with sweat. Bloodied all over from when his severed arm had spurt. But at least the blush on his cheeks was hidden by the dirt and grime stuck on his skin.
“Are you?” Dylan mumbled, reaching over impulsively to fiddle with Ryan’s hand.
“I had to… I had to shoot Chris.” Ryan choked out. “I mean he was- it wasn’t Chris , it was a fucking werewolf and it was killing people. But… goddammit -”
Dylan pursed his lips, squeezing his hand, and spoke up in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, “You had to.”
“I know, I know.”
Ryan squeezed Dylan’s hand in return.
Fatigue suddenly slapped Dylan right in the face, his eyelids drooping. But no, no no,n nonono NonoNo . He can’t let his guard down. It might not be over.
His chest tightened.
A hand, gentle as can be, nudged at Dylan’s chin, forcing him to raise his gaze to lock with Ryan’s. Dylan’s mouth hung open, just barely, and he took in breaths that didn’t help to ease the tightness.
“Sorry- I really- Shit , I have to get my, my shit together,” Dylan laughed, almost manic.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Ryan whispered, the pad of his thumb rubbing over his jaw. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s all over right?” Dylan begged, pleading for Ryan to say it was, even if it wasn’t. “You guys- you- you stopped it?”
“Yeah, it’s all over. Laura ended the curse.”
Dylan nodded, plopping down on Ryan’s chest, and focused desperately on the hand rubbing circles over his spine. His breathing slowly calmed.
“I’m so tired.”
“… Yeah.”
Perhaps it was the drowsiness that made him pull back, but he knew he couldn’t use that excuse as he drew Ryan closer, allowing their noses to bump before capturing him in a breathtaking kiss.
Ignoring the tears threatening to escape once more— he was so gentle —Dylan moved forward, holding back from pushing too much heat between them. He definitely needed a shower and a damn toothbrush before even considering that.
He shuddered, fisting his hand in the collar of Ryan’s shirt. But Ryan pushed him back. “You’re crying.”
“I just…” Dylan bumped their foreheads. “I can’t believe it’s over.”