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It's late June and Ryan's outside some decrepit house in the middle of nowhere.
He's not alone - well, not physically.
But he feels a deep, aching loneliness.
He gets like this sometimes. Melancholic. Even though he's surrounded by friends and coworkers, doing what he loves doing, he can't help but feel... Sad.
He watches the lightning bugs dance, sees one just above his head. When did he stop chasing the lightning bugs?
"Everything alright in there?" Shane asks quietly, sidling up to him. Ryan doesn't look at him, doesn't need to to know he's got that familiar distant worry in his eyes.
"Do you remember when you stopped being a kid?"
Shane doesn't laugh, doesn't make a joke. He knows it's not what Ryan needs.
"I don't. I don't think any of us are cognizant of when that switch flips."
Ryan hums at that. It's an answer, but maybe not what he was looking for. He isn't sure he knows what he's looking for. Shane places a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezes. Ryan breaks from his trance, looks up at him and smiles, small but genuine.
"Let's get inside. It's hot out here."
"I was probably about thirteen," Shane says as they enter their hotel room for the night. Ryan gives him a quizzical look.
"When I stopped being a kid," Shane explains.
Ryan feels heat start to pool in his cheeks. He hadn't expected Shane to remember the conversation, let alone respond to it.
"Specific," Ryan replies.
Shane shrugs. "We went to the pool that summer and I saw all the other kids hooting and hollering, doing handstands and playing games. I just felt removed from it, like I wanted nothing to do with it."
Ryan nods, taking it all in. Before he can reply, Shane's heading past him, claiming the shower first for the night.
"I was ten."
"What?"
"The first time I felt like this," Ryan says, staring out over city. They were at some rooftop party commemorating something or other, the thrum of music and alcohol buzzing beneath Ryan's skin. He's surrounded by people - people he knows and loves - and yet that aching loneliness has crept up again when he took a minute to step away and have a water.
Shane stands next to him, leaning on the railing. He gives Ryan a look, assessing him.
"And what exactly is it that you feel?"
Ryan makes a low noise. He's never been a fan of introspection. "Isolation, maybe? Loneliness? Maybe morose is the best way to describe it."
"Morose," Shane echoes, turning the word over in his mouth. It fits the way Ryan looks in these moments, with that sad twist to his ever present smile and that faraway look in his eye.
Like he's Atlas, carrying the world on his shoulders with tired resignation.
Shane steps closer, sliding his arm so they're together from elbow to shoulder. If Ryan is going to to carry the weight of the world, Shane can attempt to relieve some of the burden.
It's November twenty seventh. Two in the morning. The apartment living room is a mess of crumpled wrapping paper, empty beer bottles, and a leftover third of a birthday cake. Ryan's birthday cake.
Just a few hours ago, it was his stupid birthday, so why is he back in this horrible state?
He stands in his kitchen, having just thrown away a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Most everyone has gone home, leaving that gaping maw of loneliness feeling like it's looming over him, threatening to swallow him whole.
Ryan's eyes tear up and he blinks, sending streaks of tears down his cheeks. And the dam breaks. He stands in front of his trashcan, buries his face in his hands, and cries.
Suddenly, Shane is there. Ryan doesn't startle, just scrubs at his eyes and looks away.
"I'm ten, I'm thirteen, I'm twenty fucking nine," he grits out. "And it never stops."
Shane hesitates, but decides to reach out and pull Ryan to his chest. He holds him tight, one hand smoothing through his hair. Ryan throws his arms around Shane, clutches the back of his shirt, and sobs harder.
"I've got you," Shane murmurs into his head. "Just let it be heavy a minute, Ry."
Ryan buries his face in Shane's chest and cries and cries and cries. He's done trying to hold it together. The apartment is quiet except for Ryan's shaking breaths and Shane's gentle shushing.
For years, he's been Atlas, forced to carry the weight on his own, but here and now… he realizes he doesn't have to. Shane is already standing there, taking the weight until Ryan can breathe again.