Chapter Text
As Ryan slowly became aware of the world around him, feeling more well-rested than he had in months, he arched back, stretching out his sleep-stiffened limbs. He vaguely registered the warm body resting behind him and the comforting weight of Jonathan’s arm wrapped around his side, fingertips brushing the edge of Ryan’s hip where his shirt had slid up during the night.
Secretly, Ryan let himself relax back into his friend’s comforting hold, wanting this feeling of warm belonging to last a little bit longer. The heavy weight of Jonathan’s arm draped across his body should have felt uncomfortable, but wasn't somehow.
He had gotten used to Jonathan’s physical presence in practically no time, similar to how they had become such fast friends when they had originally started playing together. It even felt surreal that Jonathan had only arrived the day before; Ryan already craved the comfort and brightness that Jonathan naturally exuded.
Honestly, it was kind of strange; who knew that having Jonathan around, who was generally the most unstable of their group, would help keep him feel more grounded than he’d felt in a long while? He definitely hadn’t, but was grateful for Jonathan’s presence nonetheless. It was… nice, he supposed. That was, having one of his best friends physically there, right next to him, instead of across the country, their only interactions through late-night voice calls and recording sessions.
Ryan’s eyes softened imperceptibly as he thought to himself, secretly hoping that he could be selfish and keep Jonathan with him for as long as he wanted- for forever.
Who was he kidding though? Jonathan would get tired of him. Most people did, it seemed. Which turned out okay for him in the end because he had a wonderful group friends that were able to put up with him now. Most of the time. Which Jonathan was a part of. Fuck, that was confusing. Ryan’s forehead creased and he sighed, a low buzz of uncertainty still skimming under his skin.
He still felt uncomfortable but knew he had to get up, no matter how much he’d like to stay, cocooned under fuzzy blankets, for the rest of the morning. So he drew himself away from Jonathan's sleeping form, careful not to wake him up, and settled himself a few feet away, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him. As Ryan relaxed into the soft couch cushions, grabbing his glasses off of the coffee table, he tried to match the slow, steady breathing of Jonathan, who was still sleeping beside him. Slowly and steadily he relaxed into the cushions and started to contemplate what had happened last night.
It was hard to remember, really; one minute, he had been laughing his ass off with Jon in his mess of a kitchen (an unfortunate casualty in their quest for homemade pasta and redsauce) and having the time of his life. Suddenly, he had felt distinctly uncomfortable within his own skin, their combined laughter becoming grating in seconds. His mental state had spiraled downwards rapidly afterwards, until the next thing he knew, changing into a clean shirt had turned into too much, all too fast. The familiar hazy edges of numbness laced with bone-rattling fear and panic had started to emerge before he could even hope to stop it. He had sunk to the floor and just.. stayed there, trapped within his own mind.
He couldn't even remember much past the overwhelming blank nothingness that had quickly overtaken him as his mind crested higher and higher into self-loathing and the shaking feeling of oh gods no fuck not again . He didn't know how long he had stayed there on the freezing-cold floor, his breaths coming in faster, faster, sharper, before it hurt, it was too much and he couldn't fucking breathe .
His vision had fogged over, only able to stare blankly ahead of him until he could no longer focus, could no longer see, the white haze of panicked nothingness overcoming him, taking over- Fuck. Ryan shivered, his palms clammy and his heart pounding a-mile-a-minute.
He turned to the side, helping Buddy up next to him, petting him in a slow, rhythmical pattern. Back and forth, back and forth, slow, slow, soft and nice, until he gained back some semblance of normalcy. He lost himself to that rhythm, lost his lingering fear and clammy palms to it, so by the time Jonathan started to move and open his eyes blearily, Ryan felt calm again. He felt normal again; he felt fine.
Laying back on his side, Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair, his face still smooth and serene from sleep-induced lethargy. Ryan stared while Jonathan yawned, slow and lazy, stretching out like a house cat before letting his jaw snap shut again. He looked over at Ryan, rubbing his stubble-ridden cheek tiredly as he sat up, the light from a patch of sunlight reflecting against the shaded blue of his irises.
“You feelin’ alrigh’ Ry’?” He mumbled, his words slurred, his movements still slow as his body woke up, little by little. He turned to the side, propping himself up on his arm, clearly waiting for a response.
Ryan flushed slightly, still feeling embarrassed. "Better? I guess? It’s hard to tell ‘cause I don't really have a gage for this or remember all of it, really,” he laughed nervously. “You helped tons, though. I remember that much,” he smiled, looking down to where his fingers were tapping out a nervous, sporadic rhythm across his thighs.
“Good,” Jonathan yawned, his gaze roaming lazily over Ryan’s curled form beside him. “’Cause remember, Ry’,” he continued lethargically, “the only reason I’m here is ‘cause I wanna be, which means ch-you-yu’re not gonna get rid of me anytime soon. Got it? I ain’t goin’ nowhere, bunny-man.”
Ryan looked up, and glanced at Jonathan’s low, but no less serious stare. Ryan quickly switched to an unfocused gaze at the bare wall behind the couch and nodded. A warm feeling cascaded through his chest, chasing out the lingering panic and numbness.
Jonathan’s lips pulled into a crooked grin and he slowly clambered off of the couch and onto his feet. He stretched out his arms and closed his eyes, exposing a part of his caramel-smooth skin. Ryan fidgeted from his position on the couch. A couple seconds later, though, Jonathan padded away, still rubbing his eyes and looking generally exhausted. As his zombie-like friend got to bustling around in the kitchen of his small apartment, Ryan supposed he just wasn't quite a morning person. He winced when, not a second later, he heard the sound of metal clanging against metal and shook his head. Definitely not a morning person, then, he thought to himself, amused.
“Ry’, you up for pancakes?” Jonathan asked from the kitchen, flitting in and out of the pantry.
“Uh, sure man,” Ryan responded. He didn't usually take too much time to care about what he was eating as long as it got the job done.
“You mind gettin’ the milk out then?” Ryan nodded, getting up. He smiled and joined his madman of a friend in the inevitable destruction of his kitchen appliances.
-
A few hours later, Jonathan raised an eyebrow, confused, as the cashier gave him a judgemental glance from below her lashes. The fuck was her deal? He glanced over at Ryan, who was busy typing something out on his phone and shrugged. It was too fucking early to deal with some bullshit like that, in his opinion. He just wanted his goddamn coffee so he could function properly; was that too much to goddamn ask for? Bleh. He didn't like the way she was eyeing up Ryan either; her gaze looked slimy and predatory, just enough to make an uneasy shiver slide up his spine. Jonathan stiffened bit-by-bit as she continued to eye them up and down, feeling uncomfortable and out of his skin.
Leave us the fuck alone, ya crazy-ass sonuva-, his train of thought cut off abruptly, fragmented and distorted around the edges. Slowly, he edged standing closer to Ryan as she still glanced at them every now and again. Ew. He did not like this shit, nuh-uh, no thank you misses creepy cashier lady - Ryan wrapped an arm around his shoulders loosely, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
“You good, dude?” Jonathan vaguely registered Ryan’s voice beside him and slowly the coffee shop came back into focus. He looked up at his friend, and nodded, snorting amusedly.
“You should know there ain't nothing that can get my crazy-ass feelin’ down or nuthin’, creepy cashier-mothafuckers included,” Jonathan mouthed off lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
In response Ryan rolled his eyes slightly, base amusement shining through his otherwise casual expression. He squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder once before letting go and moving up to order. Jonathan didn't really pay attention to what Ryan was ordering, his thoughts drifting off easily. He absently ordered his own coffee, 16 full ounces of 3-shot espresso heaven. Delicious , he thought hungrily. He and Ryan stepped to the side, waiting for their coffee. Ryan stepped closer to Jonathan and raised a teasing eyebrow.
“So,” he started casually, “what’s with the poison-in-a-cup?”
“Whatch’ you tryna mean there, Mr. prejudiced? Do you really hate deliciousness that much?” Jonathan teased back, smirking crookedly.
“As long as you don't hate on mine, then sure, man.” Ryan winked- fucking winked- at him, the cheeky fucker.
Jonathan whirled around, looking for what Ryan was talking about, and sure enough, the barista was pouring- Jonathan made a face, disgusted beyond belief. Was that- had he really ordered a latte with extra cream and sugar? Was Ryan trying to ruin his coffee?
“Got a problem with cream and sugar, Delirious?” Ryan grinned suggestively, the fuckin’ pervert. His tongue was poking out from the between his teeth, clearly trying not to die laughing in the middle of the coffeehouse. As it was, he wasn’t succeeding, small snorts and giggles escaping from him at regular intervals. Jonathan stared, mouth open comically, before shaking his head and giving into the act as well. He sauntered back up to his idiot of a friend, sighing dramatically, and flopped back over Ryan’s chest and shoulders like the goddamn drama queen he was. Ryan grinned even wider at that, catching him in his arms and holding him upright. Jonathan didn't need to be a damn mind reader to know what was still going through the idiot’s head. He was even wiggling his eyebrows for damn’s sake! In retaliation, Jonathan slumped even farther down, trying to escape into the floor by turning into gooey sludge to no avail. He turned his face upwards and leveled one accusing blue eye up at his friend.
“Ruined,” he mouthed and the bottom of Ryan’s eyes lifted in wicked amusement, the corners crinkling into familiar laugh lines.
In that moment, he looked… bright, in Jonathan’s opinion. Like someone that brightened up the whole goddamn room, a far stretch from the man he had comforted and fucking cuddled with because he’d gotten a goddamn anxiety attack.
Right there and then, Jonathan just wanted to put that smile, that carefree happiness, onto Ryan's face as much as possible. And help. Help when Ryan couldn't deal, couldn't fend from all the shit that ate away at him daily. He wanted to stay and help build him back up again when he knew so many people hadn't. Give him space when people became too agitating, too much, and he needed to unwind. He just wanted to be there and care for Ryan, because it had goddamn hurt like a bullet wound to hear him, one of his best friends, sobbing and sounding confused- sounding so damn lost - over the phone.
And so, his mind made up, Jonathan smiled right back up at Ryan widely, crooked and full of all the affection he could muster for his friend, nerdy-framed glasses and all. Ryan smiled back just as widely, before they both dissolved into badly-stifled giggles. Jonathan attempted to smother his laughter into his clasped hands while Ryan buried his nose into Jonathan’s hair, his frame shaking in suppressed laughter.
-
After they had calmed down enough to act like normal human beings, Jonathan shimmied his way back onto his feet standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner in crime. He jumped excitedly into place when his order was called, Ryan right beside him. Fuckin’ finally, he thought, staring over at his coffee.
Jonathan took his from the counter greedily, eyes wide with delight, babbling out a thankful response to the creep’s coworker. Ryan took his cup beside him, while Jonathan himself was still transfixed by the delicious dark, steaming liquid in his cup.
Jonathan took a sip, his body feeling closer to normal within seconds of the hot rush of caffeine spilling down his throat. The bitter taste didn't bother him anymore, honestly, though burning his tongue definitely did.
“Bleh,” he mumbled, touching a fingertip to his scorched tongue and giving a betrayed look down to his coffee cup. “Traitor,” he groused, worrying his tongue along the inside edges of his teeth to try to alleviate the pain.
Ryan leveled an amused look back at him and steered them both towards the exit with a final thanks to the barista. They untied Buddy, who had been waiting patiently outside in the increasingly frigid and gloomy weather. He gave them both a judgemental, ‘Where the hell have you two been’-kind-of-look as they took him, completed with a long, patronizing blink. How an animal could give him such a specific feeling of exasperation from one glance, Jonathan had no idea. He figured, though, that of course it was Ryan’s dog that could. That fucker had a sassy,’I ain't gonna take no shit from anybody’ attitude that had shone through even during their first Skype calls and recording sessions together. A scorned Ohmwrecker was- something, he supposed, unable to remember the goddamn quote he had wanted to slot Ryan into. Damnit, he knew it had fit perfectly too! He grumbled to himself for a moment, narrowing his eyes childishly at the ground.
He practically yelped when a wet nose, courtesy of Buddy, pushed against his ankle where his jeans had risen up only a second later. His petty anger at forgetting the quote disappeared as he picked the Jack Russell terrier up, cradling him against his chest. Buddy nuzzled into his neck gratefully, blinking languidly up at him in thanks. He moved his head and foreleg back over Jonathan’s shoulder once before settling back and relaxing, sinking down into the supportive cradle Jonathan had made with his arms. He looked over at Ryan for confirmation that he was holding Buddy right and found that his friend was already looking over at them with a soft, affectionate look in his eyes.
Jonathan’s eyes widened and he felt a deep flush take over his already caramel-brown skin. He looked sideways quickly, embarrassed, and snuggled deeper into his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush that he knew existed over the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. Damn his stupid genetics!
This has always goddamn happened to him, something Luke had always given shit for because it had made his crushes so goddamn obvious growing up. Not mention it happened anytime someone ever startled him by lookin’ like that too, even if it was probably completely platonic like the way Ryan was lookin’ at them. Maybe. Probably. He didn't goddamn know; they flirted all the fuckin’ time in their recording sessions but they always went back to normal shit afterwards so he could never tell. Fucking fuck. He wished Luke was here so he could help him with this shit because he did not know social queues if they smacked him in the goddamn face. He looked over at Ryan again, not sure if he was ready for what he might find there, and stopped. Fuck . Ryan was still looking at them, but his expression was slowly shuttering, a strange, distant look glimmering in his eyes. Shit shit shit that’s not good.
“Ry’?” Jonathan asked quietly, reaching a hand onto the side of his increasingly blank-faced friend gently so he didn't jostle Buddy all that much. Ryan jumped slightly, his brow creasing into an unfamiliarly lost look before he tried to wipe it away with a small, nerve-wracked smile. Jonathan didn't like that one bit. He wanted Ryan to feel whatever shit he was going through, because he had people who cared about him now that would help him out. He didn't have to cover it up anymore. Woah there.. cool it and slow down; it’ll take some time for him to start healing , he reminded himself. Patience, patience, patience. Regardless, he kept his hand pressed lightly against Ryan’s hip, and stayed there, waiting for him to get the confidence to speak up.
“Shit, um, sorry, Delirious. I-I just,” he paused, before moving on, his words slurring together slightly as he quickly got out, “Do you think we can just- do you think you’d be okay with heading back? I just- I- I mean, I started thinking about some bad shit and I- I don't really wanna stay out here, I don't think. I-” Jonathan turned into him and slid his arm around him, slowly wearing down Ryan’s panic-babble. Buddy sniffed, lifting his snout up before nosing at the dip in Ryan’s collarbone and nuzzling there affectionately. Jonathan tilted Ryan’s head down slowly and looked directly into his widened, frazzled irises, speaking softly but firmly.
“Hey, Ry’, listen to me. Can you do that?” Ryan nodded jerkily, eyes skittering back and forth down over Jonathan’s worried eyes and brow. Jonathan sighed, running his thumb back and forth lightly over his friend’s hip in a slow, soothing pattern. “Okay, good. We’re gonna walk home right now, together, and then I’m gunna make you a cup of hot cocoa. Alrigh’, Ry’?”
Ryan breathed out deeply from his nose once, tilting his face down farther and letting his eyes shutter closed. Jonathan watched his eyelids flicker slightly, reminding him, strangely enough, of the small butterflies he and Luke used to watch flit and flutter about down by the creek growing up. When Ryan opened his eyes again, his lids lifted to reveal a flash of slightly calmer hazel. Jonathan smiled with a simple tug of his lip, his worried brow smoothing out in relief. He knew the worst of it was over with for the moment.
And so, he pulled back slowly and noticed the discomfort that came to his friend almost immediately at the loss of touch. He readjusted Buddy, who was still looking up at Ryan in concern, his ears twitching back and forth with a low whine. With Buddy comfortably resting partway over his shoulder, Jonathan stepped closer and twined their fingers together. He laughed softly at the unsure look Ryan gave him, glancing not-so-subtely down at their hands and back up at his face again.
“Got something against this, bunny-man?” Jonathan teased affectionately, holding their clasped hands up higher. The nickname did the trick and Ryan relaxed, his eyes crinkling together at the corners again.
“Nah,” Ryan smiled almost shyly, his eyes flitting downwards before looking up at Jonathan.“It helps, if I'm being honest.” Jonathan snorted and nodded; he knew exactly what Ryan was talking about. Ryan squeezed his hand once before raking the fingers from his other hand through his short, chestnut-brown hair in a half-aborted nervous gesture. “So, home?” He broke the quiet, asking Jonathan with a small, trusting smile.
“Uh-huh. Lead the way, Mr. Wrecker,” Jonathan hummed teasingly. And so, with a low-lit smile directed up to his friend beside him, Jonathan let himself be pulled towards the direction of Ryan’s apartment, their hands swinging between them.
-
Later that evening, Ryan sat, curled up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, just as promised. Jonathan was in the kitchen bustling about quietly, making some for himself. Buddy was napping beside him, head resting on his lap and feet tangled up in the blanket Jon had thrown over them both earlier. He snuggled further into to the soft, fuzzy fabric, content.
The heat radiating from the chipped, faded ceramic mug was warming him up from his fingertips to his palms, chasing away the cold that lingered from the rain and wind outside. The light, slow-burning warmth from the mug made its way through his body and up into a comfortable flush just underneath his skin, although he was pretty certain it was the action, not the mug itself, that was the cause. It was kind of nice to be cared for, although he loved having Jonathan with him for casual, every-day reasons too. For somehow, was just easy, to the point of being natural, to go from staying up till 3am in skype calls and their discord server, to lazing about late at night with each other on his couch, and giving into teasing banter and the over-dramatic acting that came with it. He just really liked having Jonathan around, honestly. It was so fucking nice to able to joke and hang out with him for hours on end because he lit up his apartment with bright, animated gestures and generally made life suck a little less.
And so, Ryan rebuilt himself, bit-by-bit, staring down into his mug of hot chocolate, transfixed by the way the milk slowly swirled and drifted around at the top. He thought about late-night recording sessions filled with Jon’s bright, maniacal laughter, flashes of strangled, bellowed curses from Luke, and Bryce’s silent shit-head grin he got while trolling (the one they all knew existed even without having to see his facecam). As Ryan lay curled up on his couch, he sifted through his memories of him and his best friends and decided that they were good enough to trust full heartedly, that Jonathan was good enough. He loved them enough to give himself to them. To trust them.
-
By the time Jonathan made his way over to him about ten minutes later, Ryan’s mug was closer to empty but he felt fuller, more complete and whole-hearted. He’d decided that he himself might not be worth it, but his friends definitely were, so he was going to fight and claw his fucking way out of this, one way or another. He owed them that much.
“Sorry that took so long, man,” Jonathan smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck, a blush making it's way onto his nose and cheeks. The growing flush darkened his skin further and accentuated the scattering of freckles that already existed on his face. His eyes shone electric yet dark and uncertain in the low light cast from the kitchen. Ryan swallowed, his heart and pride fluttering in his chest, before answering.
“Nah, you’re good, dude. I was just sitting here anyways; it's not like you missed out on much.” Ryan stopped and backtracked a bit, admitting, “Well, not too much anyways. Out loud.” His eyes widened a bit. “Shit, I-I. I mean,” he stopped and covered his face with his hands, groaning lowly. Why couldn't he just say what he wanted to say? Why did this shit always have to be so goddamn hard? He rubbed his hands back down his face in mortification. He winced as the short hairs from the bare beginnings of a beard prickled against his palms.
Okay, focus. You can do this, Ryan , he told himself forcefully, repeating it over and over in his mind until he kind of believed it.
He looked up to steel himself and let out a small sigh. He saw Delirious- Jonathan - one of his best friends, sitting next to him, waiting for him to continue with a small, sleepy smile on his face. Ryan’s lips twitched up in response and he opened his mouth again and let himself speak. He rambled on, not letting himself stop for a second, not giving into his stupid, embarrassing self-consciousness. It was okay; he wasn't quite fine but it didn't mean that he couldn't turn out okay in the long run. Hopefully, with Jonathan there. And maybe even with Luke and Bryce too, when he was ready, his mind supplied, a soft ‘what if’ that he hoped for with his entire being. All of his friends together in one place, happy and together like the oddly conjoined family they were.
So, hope foreshadowing every word he uttered, he rambled on about the bad shit, the stuff he normally didn't talk about. He let it all flow out: his confusion, the hazy depressive fog that permeated his thoughts on low nights, and every other shitty-feeling thing he could think of. And Jonathan sat there the entire time, hand resting supportively on Ryan in some way. On his hip, around to his lower back, on the cord of his thigh right above his knee, always moving in slow, comforting patterns. It almost felt surreal, like Jonathan himself was another figment of Ryan’s imagination he had created to try to convince himself he wasn't going insane. But that wasn't the case, somehow, and Jonathan really was sitting there, head resting on his shoulder, his eyes soft and caring. He just sat there and listened, asking questions here and there, one brow furrowed in concern over deep, endlessly dark blue eyes.
And when Ryan came to the end of it, to the point where he couldn’t think of anything else to say, his thoughts run completely dry, Jonathan smiled. Not the wide, lopsided, carefree smile he often wore, accompanied by unforgettably maniacal laughter, nor the causal, soft tip of his lips he used when lost in the drifts of thought or the maze of his impossibly vast imagination. No; this time, Jonathan smiled widely and yet not much at all, the color of his lips brightening in a burst of warm light, teeth flashing straight and white behind them. All in that one moment, Ryan’s entire being focused in on that proud, bright-yet-small smile directed at him and his heart constricted with his chest. Fuck. It wasn’t even that Jon was really, really fucking mesmerizingly gorgeous, though he was realizing that at the speed of an oncoming train.
Nah , what was really getting to him was the full-on flood of emotions that came with the emotional upheaval he’d just partaken in. Holy fucking dog-butt McGee, he’d just spilled out all of his current emotional baggage onto one of his closest friends. A friend who, as of this moment, had not only seen some of his bad habits and tendencies, but had now heard about all of them. Fuck fuck fuck shit. Mother tit-fucker, jesus why did he ever think this was a good idea. Why the fuck was he such a burden fuck fuck fuck they were right they were right he wasn’t any good oh fuck why he couldn’t do anything right why fuck no-
Ryan’s mind blanked out as he crashed out again, mind swept to the deep end, the only tether being wide blue, blue hazy eyes until his mind short-circuited again and swept him under.
I’m fine?
I-
Am I? A-am I fine?
-
He woke up an indefinite amount of time later, his breath coming in short, harsh and ragged. His cheek was pressed against something warm; he was lying down. Tear tracks stained his skin, the remaining ones burning and pressing down on his eyelids. Fuck. His throat was so dry it felt like it had been rubbed raw, the stinging pain lingering as a constant throbbing sensation beneath his skin. Fingers carded through his hair softly, scratching lightly against his scalp and Ryan melted into the touch. He hung onto that feeling of contact, needing something to focus on after coming to and feeling so goddamn empty. A small sound of pure contentment slipped out of him, like his vocal cords were trying to purr but didn’t have the means. A small, breathy laugh sounded above him and Ryan tilted his head upwards lethargically, looking straight into a pair of soft, shaded blue eyes. Jonathan. Oh. Oh, shit. Um , he thought, deciding to say the first thing he could think of.
“Hey dude,” Ryan murmured hoarsely, his voice quiet yet impossibly loud in the stifling silence of his apartment.
“Hey, Ohm.” Jonathan smiled, his nose scrunching sleepily. He yawned, his other hand coming up to rub his cheek tiredly. He handed Ryan his glass of water, helping him crunch up slowly so he could drink it without spilling all over himself. Jonathan took the glass when he was finished, and Ryan let his head sink back onto his friend’s thighs. Jonathan sighed above Ryan, a small smile making its way into his face. “How- how’re you feeling? You kinda wore yourself out at the end there, Ry’,” he spoke lowly, a light tired flush making its way into his cheeks.
“Honestly?” Ryan shrugged awkwardly from his position on Jonathan’s lap, continuing on with his answer quietly. “Like shit, but I think that's normal. I'll be fine in a minute or two, tops, but for now this is kinda nice. Just laying here.” He paused. “What that a-another one? Another attack?” He searched imploringly for the answer in the lines on Jonathan’s face to no avail. He doubted Jonathan was really that closed off; he was probably just shit at reading people, honestly.
“I mean, yeah.” Jonathan shook his head, snorting slightly. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at Ryan. “You scared the shit out of me, man.” His face softened and he smiled that slow, tender smile down at him. It wasn't said as an accusing statement either, just an admission of pain and emotion.
“Sorry,” Ryan scrunched one eye shut, wincing out of habit. He smiled up at Jonathan abashedly, his eyebrows jumping together in apology.
Jonathan waved him off. “Nah, whatever shit you were going through back there is more important than whatever the fuck I'm feeling.”
Ryan frowned. “Not true.” Jon looked like he was going to protest so he continued quickly. “T-That's not how it works, Jon. Just because I have it worse doesn't mean that your own pain, exhaustion, and whatever else doesn't exist.” He paused. “Think about it this way- if a kid falls and breaks their wrist, they’re in pain, right? And then another kid who...,” he hummed, trying to think of an example. He continued slowly, eyes drifting in thought. “They burned their hand from a hot pan of bacon, let’s say. Put it right in there and the oil popped on ‘em.” Ryan looked up at Jonathan intently, searching. “Just because the kid who burned their hand has less pain than the one who broke their wrist doesn't mean that their hand hurts any less.” He smiled ruefully. “I mean, they still burnt their hand, right?” Jonathan nodded slowly, like he was starting to understand what Ryan was trying to get at. “Good. Just ‘cause I have some bad shit in my life doesn't mean the bad shit you feel isn't there. Or just goes away. That's not how life works or how I'm ever gonna treat you, one of my-” Ryan stopped, feeling a bit like when he had when he met Delirious during their first recording session together. He felt nervous and shy; his stomach dropped out into the fluttering of butterflies. When he spoke up again, he started off quiet, his voice becoming soft and fond even to his own ears. “You- you’re one of my closest friends, Jon.” Jonathan looked down at him with wide, dark eyes. A light flush was settling over his caramel skin and his lips parted slightly, revealing pristine-white teeth. Holy shit, some reserved part of Ryan thought… probably because he was still really really bad at this whole friends-in-real-life thing. Yeah, that. His breath stuttered, but he forced himself to continue on. “I mean- you know that, right? You, Luke, and Bryce. You guys are like my family, only better because you guys were the ones that actually stuck around.”
Ryan shifted his head sideways and stared intently at hem of Jonathan’s blue-black t-shirt, picking at stray strands absently. It was easier to focus on this, on the way the fabric frayed minutely at the edges, than to give into the burning of tears behind his eyelids. Why couldn't he fucking keep it together for one second?
Hesitantly but affectionately, Jonathan’s fingers came back down to curl around the underside of Ryan’s jaw. He tilted Ryan’s face, lifting his chin careful until they were eye-level with each other.
“That goes the same for me. You guys are the best friends a guy like me could ask for.” Jonathan spoke lowly and intently, his eyes focusing in on Ryan’s features softly. “That means you, specifically, Ry’. We’re always gonna be here for ya, partners in crime, for as long as you want us. F-for as long as you want me and my dumb ass.”
“But I like your ass. Besides, I gotta get that Delirious booty somehow.” Ryan responded without thinking. His eyes widened and he groaned, hiding his face with his palms. “Did I really just fucking say that,” he muttered in disbelief. Jonathan snorted above him and Ryan looked up to see his lips twitching upwards, a second away from breaking down into laughter. Ryan rushed to stop it, knowing exactly what his increasingly smug smile meant. “Delirious, don't you fucking dare-”
Jonathan gave in, cackling, his frame shaking uncontrollably. He clutched Ryan’s frame, howling with laughter. Ryan poked his friend’s side, an amused smile quickly forming on his own face.
“H-hey, c’mon dude. N-not fair!” Ryan started to giggle too, unable to help it; Jon’s laughter was too goddamn contagious. Delirious just continued on, his laughter escalating by the second and Ryan wasn’t far behind.
“G-goddamnit, J-Jon,” Ryan gasped out a good half a minute later; his stomach was starting to hurt from laughing so hard. “I-It’s not that- it’s not that fucking funny-” he wheezed suddenly, laughter rebuilding, completely contradicting his statement. Jonathan doubled over Ryan at that, laughing to the point of tears. His snickering turned into manic high-pitched giggles, uncontrollably loud and sporadic. Ryan just laughed harder, clutching at his stomach. They both gasped for breath, still giggling but calming down slightly. Ryan looked up at Jon out of corner of his eye- a fatal mistake, as they succumbed to cackling again the second they made eye contact.
It was the past the point of the joke, of anything that had been funny originally. They ended up clutching onto each other as they kept snickering, Ryan eventually curling up into Jonathan and over his aching stomach muscles.
“F-fuck, dude,” he groaned out some time later, his voice hoarse. Jonathan nodded, giggling and hiccuping every so often.
“I-I can't believe you fuckin’ said that, man,” he cackled gleefully. “Although, I don't blame you f-for staring n’ all,” he continued on casually, grin suddenly looking sharp, dangerous and all sorts of hungry. “You gotta live up to your name somehow.” Ryan groaned, flopping farther into Jonathan’s t-shirt. He cursed the goddamn day that Cartoonz- that Luke, the motherfucker, had started the whole ‘butt-sex Ohm’ thing.
“This sucks,” Ryan sighed dramatically, turning over so he could sprawl his limbs all over Jonathan. “You suck,” he directed up at Jonathan’s amused visage. Goddamn his friends, their lame jokes and his inability to stop smiling because of said friends and stupid jokes. Ryan stuck his tongue at Jonathan, feeling childish and cool amusement simultaneously.
Jonathan just ran his fingers gently through Ryan’s hair and smiled widely down at him with low lit yet wild-spirited eyes. Huh. Wow, okay. He liked this; this was nice. Nice to be here- be here with Jonathan. Who’s his friend. Jonathan. Hmmmm… nice and warm. Warm fingers, warm heart. Warm Jonathan. Okay.
His mind drifted further off into incoherency as he just focused on the calming sensations of long, nimble fingers running through his hair and along his scalp. He hummed lowly in the back his throat, melting further into Jonathan.
“You’re really, really good at this. Gon’… gonna half to keep you ‘round, J’,” Ryan mumbled a while later. He was completely relaxed, mind slipping away from everything; it was kinda nice. He knew he kept sinking farther back into a thicker accent that he hadn't allowed himself to use for years, but that was okay. Jonathan was safe and familiar, which made it all okay.
Those familiar-yet-unfamiliar hands carded through his hair again. “I'm not be goin’ anywhere, Ry’. You don't have to worry about that- you don't have to worry ‘bout me leaving or anything like that.” Jonathan frowned, his thumb passing back and forth along Ryan’s brow absently.
“I- I know. I trust you.” Ryan was sure of that, if nothing else.
Jonathan smoothed his palm over the side of Ryan’s face comfortingly. “Good,” he murmured, a fond, low-strung smile forming on his face. “You too, bunny-man. Lifesaving parachute privileges n’everything.” Jonathan’s smile was teasing and Ryan snorted, remembering the catastrophe that was their attempt at team-skydiving in ‘Grand Theft Auto V’ just a couple weeks prior.
During the session, their little group had split up into teams of two, aiming for a landing zone far below. Evan and Tyler had died almost immediately, mostly because Evan kicked Tyler out of the plane first and had been unable to catch up to him before they hit the ground. Brian and Jonathan had been close, but had missed the target and hit the field of stickybombs they’d laid just outside of the designated landing zone, dying instantly. Mini and Ryan had hit each other in mid-air, spinning out from each other and consequently destroying their parachutes before flailing to their deaths. It had been a completely unsuccessful clusterfuck, but had been hilarious nonetheless, filled with tons of bloopers and corpse launches that had made it all worth it. Ryan coughed out a laugh just remembering just how blatantly unorganized and ineffective their attempted mini-game had been.
“I’d better fucking hope that I’m better in real life than I was then, dude. You’re screwed otherwise.” Jonathan snickered in agreement, gaze lifting up to sweep across the low-lit living room.
“You wanna see if we can get some dinner started? I feel like I haven't eaten in forever, man,” Jonathan suggested, helping Ryan back onto his feet.
“Just as long as it’s not pasta, dude. I don't think my kitchen can't take another beat down.” Ryan smirked over at Jonathan, wiggling his fingers at him teasingly.
“Fuck you and your normal-ass cooking methods, Ry’. That pasta was delicious-” Jonathan paused, thinking, before brightening up and rambling on again. “You know what, actually? Imma show you what a real southern meal looks like and you’re gonna goddamn like it! ” Jonathan brandished the cooking spoon at him like it was a weapon, as if daring him to disagree.
Ryan raised an eyebrow, undeterred and made sure to pitch his voice lower teasingly. One innuendo coming right up, ladies and gentlemen. “I'll believe it when I taste it, babe-”
“Babe! You come back here, you pervy motherfucker- Ryan! Don't you run away from me; I swear on my Abuelita’s grave I will end you and your nastiness-”
Ryan snickered, turning tail, and Jonathan bounded after him, spoon in hand. Face flushed and a grin stretching across his face, Ryan evaded Jonathan’s attempts at capture, feeling lighter- feeling happier - than he had in a long while.