Work Text:
Dylan and Ryan stumbled into a hotel room, throwing their bags in the corner and just standing there for a second. After the whole werewolves or whatever the fuck was that ordeal and later dealing with the police trying to explain themselves and how they weren’t the ones killing people around this stupid camp, they were somehow send down to one of the hotels under a supervision. They briefly saw a police officer outside in the corridor, probably making sure they wouldn’t sneak out. But to be fair, all of them were too exhausted to even think about anything other than the semi-comfortable hotel beds after this crazy awful night.
Ryan glanced at his friend who was looking a little out of it. Although, it was probably the painkillers they gave him at the hospital. Thankfully, by some miracle, the chainsaw amputation he performed on Dylan didn’t get infected, but either way it must have taken a toll on him.
“So.” Ryan started, getting the other boy's attention. “We should wash all of this-” He gestured at the combination of blood and dirt all over them. “-yea.”
Dylan hummed. “Probably.”
“You can…go first.” Ryan said.
The other nodded . “Thanks.”
With some help, because getting your hand chopped off seriously messes up with your motoric skills apparently, he got the new set of clothes and the toiletries from his bag and finally disappeared in the bathroom.
Dylan was not feeling great. The painkillers were dulling the pain, but his hand was still not there and he really tried not to pay too much attention to this fact, but it was kinda hard to ignore when he couldn’t even function properly. At least he was right handed.
When he caught a glance in the mirror his breath hitched. He hardly looked like himself, pale, sunken eyes and blood all over his face.
Dylan looked away. It was better to just get the whole ‘washing all of the grossness of the night off’ over with. And so he did, with a lot of trouble of stumbling over, dropping bottles and trying his hardest to not mess up the bandages on his wrist.
Eventually he finished washing himself and dressed up. It was nice, to finally be out of the material that was basically stuck to your skin for hours. At the same time the fabric of his clothes felt…uncomfortable.
He sighed, gathering the torn, dirty pieces of whatever he was wearing before to throw them away and got startled by Ryan, who was standing by the door as he exited.
“Jesus-”
“Sorry, shit.” Ryan bit his lip, feeling slightly guilty for scaring the other boy. “I just…didn’t want to sit down and dirty those, relatively, clean sheets.” He explained himself.
Dylan nodded. “Sure uh…yea. Makes sense.”
The atmosphere between them was awkward, but they weren’t exactly sure why, other than just not being sure what to talk about or if bringing anything from the night’s events would be a good idea.
Dylan moved away, letting his temporary roommate into the bathroom so he could clean himself as well. Meanwhile he threw the torn clothes away and went to his respective bed, heavily sitting on it. The remains of his energy drained, as the fear and adrenaline finally seemed to wear off, leaving only a dull ache in his muscles and a steady throbbing in his left wrist, that would have been unbearably painful if not for the heavy dose of painkillers the hospital gave him.
And the longer he stared down on the remaining hand on his lap, the more he could see how it started to tremble. He took a shaky breath, hoping it would calm down his nerves, somehow, unfortunately, to no avail.
He could feel the panic settling in.
His breaths shortened.
Chest tightened.
Vision blurred from the tears that filled his eyes.
He brought his knees to his chest and whispered in a soft sob. “What the fuck…”
Everything, from the moment he stepped into this stupid camp was just piling up.
His pretended happy-go-lucky persona, dealing with kids, schedules and then the camp ending, his hopes that he could go back to being himself.
But nothing in life was so easy, was it?
Just an innocent thought of having a party. Just one more night .
And it all went to shit.
The stupid truth of dare making them split over a damn kiss, Nick and Abi getting attacked, the hunters, the werewolves, or whatever the fuck were they , him losing-
He sobbed at the thought.
He lost his hand.
Fuck, they almost died out there.
But they didn’t and it was all over, but he still lost his hand, and it just-
It was all too much.
He didn’t know how to deal with all of this.
But did any of them?
How would you even go about dealing with something like that?
“Dylan?”
He jumped hearing his name called so close by. Head snapping up just to see Ryan’s concerned expression. He didn’t even realize when the other managed to sit next to him.
“Hey, hey dude, Dylan? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Did the painkillers wear off?”
But the other couldn’t answer properly, only shaking his head weakly and trying his best to calm down. But the shallow breaths were making him spiral further and further into panic.
“Dylan- Dylan you need to breathe man, okay?” Ryan kept his voice soft, hands hovering over the other boy, not sure if he could touch in in his state. “I’m gonna touch you, is that okay?”
Dylan was still conscious enough to muster up a weak nod.
It was awful.
He was falling apart in front of the person he wanted to impress before.
The person he wanted to show his best side to, not- that.
Not the shell of a person he was right now.
Ryan rested one of his hands on the distressed boy’s back and with the other he grabbed Dylan’s one remaining hand and brought it to his chest.
“Breath with me okay?”
Ryan’s hands were warm against Dylan’s cold from distress body. He tried his damn hardest to focus on that warmth.
Use it as a guiding light out of the dark tunnel of his panicked mind.
And ever so slowly it was actually working.
He felt like he could drown in this warmth that was steadily spreading from where Ryan’s hands were resting.
At some point, that could have been either minutes? Hours? When his breathing finally started to calm down, he could feel Ryan’s hand moving from his back to his face.
He dared to open his eyes that he wasn’t aware were closed.
When did he close them?
“Hey.” Ryan whispered, softly swiping his finger under Dylan’s eye.
“Hi.” The latter answered, his voice rough and scratchy.
“Are you okay?”
Dylan looked down at his lap, where the stump that was left of his hand was resting.
“...no.”
Ryan nodded in understanding. “Okay…”
Neither of them dared to make their voices louder than a whisper at that point.
“Can I hug you?”
Dylan looked up briefly. “...please.”
And it was such a nice and safe feeling to be in Ryan’s arms.
Not only Dylan has been crushing on the guy since like, the beginning of camp, and made multiple terrible attempts at flirting with him.
But he seemed like a very caring person underneath this broody and alluring loner persona.
The soft way he was petting his hair was only another evidence of it.
And Dylan was exhausted.
After the camp.
After the night full of monsters chasing them.
After the police and the hospital.
And after the panic attack he just had.
He was so incredibly tired.
So just like that.
Not caring for the future for now.
He was lulled to sleep by the man who was holding him from breaking into pieces.
And Dylan slept.