Sarcasm Rights

Hanzo takes her in once more, paying closer attention this time, and sees an echo of himself in the large ill-fitting t-shirt she wears and the untamable exhaustion bearing down on her small frame. He is looking at a true Hana Song, a far-cry from the pop-star persona she puts on. In many ways, Hanzo realizes, he is looking at a younger version of him. While Hana does not have a clan behind her, she does have an entire country looking to her for strength, comfort, and reassurance. The weight of the world on such tiny shoulders… Hanzo’s chest aches in a bittersweetly familiar way.

Hana’s sniffle draws Hanzo back from his thoughts and he takes in a deep breath from his nose, walking closer to sit an arm’s length away from her. If Hana has not waved him away or drawn back herself, it would appear she wouldn’t mind the company, and Hanzo knows he would have appreciated a wiser someone to have sat with him in these hours.

Silence blankets over them again, and Hanzo knows he cannot be the one to approach Hana in these times. He believes in her inner strength, silently encouraging her with his mind as he gazes upon the Gibraltar horizon. The sea’s waves lazily tumble over each other, and Hanzo recollects someone briefly mentioning a gloomy weather prediction for today. Perfect weather for staying indoors today and train. He and Cole have been chasing each other’s sharpshooter best. Today may be the best day of competition yet.

A soft draw of breath brings Hanzo out of his light meditation, and he sits up a bit straighter to let Hana know he’s listening, that he wants to listen.

“What is the bravest thing you’ve ever said?” she asks, turning her head to look at him. Hanzo meets her eyes, gaze immediately softening at the sight of her. There’s a distinct lack of life on her face, a look Hanzo recognizes as survival over enjoyment. Hana must not have been sleeping for the past few days, or doing much for that matter. Her presence has been sorely missed by everyone, no jovial chirp as she bounces down the halls with Lucio nor late night screeches as she streams for her faraway fans. In terms of Hana, silence weighs much more heavily than words.

“Well…” Hanzo manages out, voice scratchy and deep with lack of use. He returns to look at the horizon again in search of the answer. A dozen memories come to him, vying for such a prestigious title. The first that comes clearly is his first rebellion against the Shimada elders, where Hanzo called for the end of the clan and vowed to seek retribution once they exiled him. Brave, yes, but not the bravest.

Seeking Genji after their confrontation in Hanamura Castle surfaces as well, when he packed what little belongings he had and came to Gibraltar. Hanzo had found Genji during his dawn meditation with Zenyatta and asked for a brief private moment. There, on a cliffside and with the sun as his second witness, Hanzo fell to his knees and performed the deepest and, in his eyes now, the only meaningful dogeza of his life. As his forehead brushed the cool stone, he heard Genji gasp and pause in his movements to beg Hanzo up. In one breath, Hanzo professed his final apology to his brother and made a vow to choose to live, instead of offering his life so willingly in a poor form of reparation. A stark reversal from the man he was in the Hanamura confrontation. The memory brings a warm pride to Hanzo’s chest, a feeling he is working to become familiar with. It draws a small smile to his face, and yes, it was brave, but still not the bravest.

A memory bubbles up to voice a delicate nomination, a time before he promised Genji to live. Hanzo faintly recalls a post-celebration late night, commending agents for a particularly grueling mission, one where the members left behind in Gibraltar cursed at feeling so helpless and those on the field made peace with conflict being the last sight for this life. By a string of miracles, Hanzo returned home, bleeding onto the emergency transport and Lucio raising his voice into a frightened scream for Angela. Nearly a life for a life, where Hanzo’s feet leapt him between a bullet and the young medic, dragons bursting from his arrow just as the opposing shot sank into the soft flesh of his stomach. As Hanzo fought for consciousness in the transport out, Lucio’s audiotech turned to dangerously experimental levels in hopes to give Hanzo a chance to live, his entire life flashed before his eyes and Hanzo realized something. He had not yet had a life to live. His life had been in the hands of others for its entirety. His clan, the elders, his father… Then Genji, as penance. Never his own.

Oh, he will never forget seeing Cole when he woke after surgery. The sound of struggle, protest, and defiance echoed behind his door loud enough to rouse him from medically induced slumber. His eyes had barely cracked open for more than a moment before his cowboy came barreling through the door. They had only recently acknowledged the possibility of meaning more to each other, gone maybe on a handful of “dates” before Hanzo had been called away on a mission. His last thought upon leaving Gibraltar had been how unworthy he was to be so fully loved by an honest, kind man. The last thought he had before he felt his eyes roll back and darkness take him was if he lives through this, if he opens his eyes again, he will learn to love Cole despite what he feels for himself, because that was what Cole deserved.

After rounds of drinks and Lucio’s exaggerated retellings of Hanzo’s bravery, Hanzo found himself crawling into Cole’s bed yet again to find his warmth and, after drawing a shaky breath, asked.

“Help,” Hanzo finally replies, returning to the greenhouse. He looks at Hana’s tiny frame over his shoulder, a softness coming over his features. Her eyes widen impossibly so, reminding Hanzo she still has yet to enter her twenties.

“Asking for help is not giving up. It is refusing to give up,” he expands, unable to keep a swell of emotion from blooming in his chest at how true his words ring. All his life, he has faced dragons, disappointment, war, and loneliness. At times, Hanzo feels his soul is older than his body can carry, impossibly heavy in ways that test the limits of human spirit, and there have been times he has stumbled, fallen from a bone-deep exhaustion. Surrender was not an option, though it had tempted him deeply. Instead, Hanzo found new purpose and resolve in those around him. Freed both Genji and himself from their past with his declaration, found love in a man who threw his entire being into making sure Hanzo felt loved. And, perhaps the greatest act of growth, Hanzo feels he deserves to feel this way: loved in every fulfilling way.

Hana continues to look at him, eyes becoming glassy before she chokes out a sob and hides her face between her knees, shoulders shaking as Hanzo feels her impossible weight fall off her shoulders. Hana sobs, and sobs, and fills the entire greenhouse with the release of her sorrow, weariness, and pressure. Because he has found a new strength in himself, Hanzo sits with her and, after a moment, reaches out and rests a calm hand on her kneecap.

It's as if Hana has been waiting for permission, as she explodes with movement as soon as he touches her. Delicate arms are flung around Hanzo’s shoulders, and she nearly falls off the small bench they share, continuing to unleash. Hanzo gently rests his hand on her back now, the other going to her hair and petting in the way his mother had a long time ago.

Once the sobs fade into something softer, Hana draws away to rest into a casual seiza, stubbornly wiping the wetness from her face. She looks at Hanzo and he hopes his expression is as encouraging as he feels.

She takes in a shaky breath.

“Help.”

🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾🌣☾

Cole wanders into the mess hall, having woken up earlier than he’s used to. The bed had been a little cold without Hanzo in it this time, but he has a hazy recollection of Hanzo leaving him to probably head to that greenhouse of his. It’s been his happy place when he can’t sleep, so Cole decides to head over there after fixing them up some breakfast.

To his surprise though, Hanzo is already sitting across from Hana. The picture is quite heartwarming, with Hana eagerly eating a hot bowl of rice porridge and pecking at a mighty fine spread of side dishes, and Hanzo sipping on a steaming cup of tea and working through a bowl of his own.

“Good mornin’ y’all,” Cole greets, sliding into the seat by Hanzo. He first presses a kiss against his darling’s cheek, enjoying the pleased hum he gets as thanks.

“Greetings. There is still enough for a bowl on the counter, if you are hungry,” Hanzo mentions and Cole eagerly gets out of his seat again, padding over to help himself to leftovers. Silently, he listens to Hana continue to eat, chopsticks against porcelain a rather pretty sound for him. Maybe it’s just ‘cause it reminds him of Hanzo finally taking care of himself and eating right.

“What’re you two doin’ up? Ain’t nothin’ good if it’s with you, squirt,” Cole teases when he sits. Hana’s wince immediately draws concern and Cole looks to Hanzo to check for a faux pas. Instead, Hanzo only offers a chuckle and nods to Hana, who shyly peeks up at Cole from her bowl.

Voices click and gargle from somewhere nearby, Ryan barely conscious enough to hear them. It sounds like layers upon layers of voices are speaking at once in one unified dialect. If he tries very hard, he can lift his eyelids just enough to filter an orange light through them.

At once, the voices stop talking, though Ryan doesn’t sense concern or anything warm from them. The silence that fills the void is thick and heavy, almost like a winter duvet being pressed against his body. He’s starting to choke on it, instincts warning him that something is drawing closer.

That’s all Ryan remembers until sleep beckons him back into its arms.

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Ryan doesn’t realize his eyes are open until he sees something moving. Then he can make out the fuzzy outlines of a wall, the door in it, and some other scarce furniture of the room.

The figure in question looks almost completely black, its silhouette having no discernible features. He can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, just that it’s tall and looming in the doorway. He can’t see eyes or a mouth, no ears. Just the shape of shoulders and the prickling feeling that it’s staring at him just as much as he’s staring at it. Once again, Ryan can feel his hairs standing on edge and a gag dancing in the back of his throat. He swallows it. oddly smiling at the figure and huffing a laugh through his nose.

A cheerful hysteria runs through his body. Before he can act on it, his eyes roll back again, and Ryan returns to the dark void.

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A savory delicious smell wakes Ryan up, his eyes slowly opening to a gentle stream of daylight. He’s waking up in his absolute favorite way, starting with stretching out his chest before wiggling deeper into his soft covers. The delicious smell is still in the air, now far too strong to be the remnants of a dream. Had he brought someone home last night? Damn, he’d promised himself to at least remember some names.

Ryan presses against the bed for just a moment longer before sighing, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. He fully opens his eyes and blinks, tossing the blanket off of his lap. Weird, he’d gone to bed fully dressed. Did one of his friends wind up having to deal with him for the night? A pool of guilt pools at the base of his throat, an apology forming on his tongue when Ryan notices the blanket he’d tossed off.

None of his friends have… fur blankets, at least nothing this big and real feeling. He massages the fur before looking around, mind slowly catching up as he realizes he’s in a cabin somewhere. It’s rustic, all furniture looking handmade and dated back by a few years at least. Where exactly… is he?

“Oh! You’re awake now. G’morning.”

Ryan startles at the new voice, whipping his head to the sound and there stands a very tall and rather peaceful looking man dressed in a buttoned-up flannel. He sips from a smoking mug and from the smell, Ryan can tell it’s freshly brewed coffee. The man, probably the owner of the cabin, takes a long slurp of his coffee and Ryan realizes he’s staring, quickly averting his gaze to something, anything else in the room. He notices his backpack propped up against the wall, standing up to walk to it.

“People usually tell me their name,” the man speaks again and Ryan straightens up, running a hand through his hair.

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I’m Ryan, nice to meet you. Did you… Does this place… Yours?” Ryan asks, unsure what knocked the wires loose in his brain. Knocked? Wait, hold on.

Ryan grabs the nearest thing he can find to steady himself, washing nausea drowning him. His knees buckle as Ryan struggles to connect the dots. They shouldn’t be buckling, shouldn’t be doing anything at all because of the ravine. The fall, he shouldn’t be walking like nothing is happening. He should be in a hospital or dying at the bottom of a pit. How is he here?! He pats himself down, falling back onto the bed and waiting for the moment the illusion breaks and the pain comes through. He waits and waits before blinking hard, gaze remaining fixed on his legs.

“Ryan. Yeah, the place is mine. Are you freaking out because of your uh, legs?” the man asks and Ryan turns to look at him, completely forgetting that another person is in the room. What the fuck is happening?

“Yeah, I patched you up. Noticed you were kinda laying at the bottom of a ravine and not entirely dead so I grabbed you, healed you.”

“How is that possible? How long have I been asleep? This isn’t a hospital, how did you do that?” Ryan stutters out, grasping one of his calves as if to prove to him how Ryan is still in one impossible piece.

“Most people just say thank you. Nature does some wild things,” the man says, now a smug smile on his face. Ryan wants to react poorly but the man has a point. Instead of being actually thankful, he’d almost thrown up on the floor of the room. Jesus, LA is doing something to his manners.

“Sorry, you’re right. Thank you, uh… What’s your name?”

“What do I look like?”

Ryan tilts his head at the question, the nature of it striking him odd. They weren’t exactly friends like that, he’s not sure why the man’s… asking him that exactly. Maybe he’s just been in the woods too long?

“You uh… Huh?” Ryan grabs for the first random name he can think of. “Sh-Shane. You look like a Shane.”

“Interesting. Haven’t heard that one before,” Shane says and takes another sip, giving Ryan another friendly smile. The whole smiling thing is starting to get a little old, a little creepy even. He’s stuck in a cabin in the woods with a stranger who keeps showing off his teeth. If this was a script Ryan would be working on, this entire situation would be a little something called foreshadowing.

“What’s your real name then? I can’t just call you Shane if that’s not your name,” Ryan pushes, standing from the bed. He mentally sizes the guy up. He’s way thinner than Ryan, definitely not as strong. However, he’s got a solid number of inches on him and that could spell trouble in a fight. Ryan’s eyes dart to his backpack, though nothing in there can help him.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it. Shane works. Been called a lotta things,” Shane says and turns from the door, walking off but still talking on. Ryan feels an inexplicable draw to follow him, still a bit baffled how he can follow Shane. His legs feel completely normal, not a tinge of pain or creaks anywhere.

“Guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch, horror of the shadows…” Shane lists off and Ryan hums. Guy’s funny. A little strange but funny.

The room they walk into is the main living space, with a kitchenette tucked into a corner and a hearth with a gentle fire still lit. Ryan peeks out one of the windows and sees the night sky stretching over them. The forest seems much friendlier now, and yet Ryan can’t keep the red eyes away from his memories. They haunt him whenever he blinks, two unnaturally red dots hungrily look at him. His compass acting completely weird brings a chill up his spine, the overturned rock scaring him more than it should.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly jumps when Shane stands in front of him again, holding out a bowl.

“Oh, thanks. What’s this?” Ryan asks, already bringing the soup to his lips. It’s still hot, but Ryan quickly gets over it when he tastes the soup. It’s rich, salty, all in the best ways. He can’t imagine tasting something this good anywhere else, it’s like taking the love from his mom’s food and mixing it with the best ingredients man can find.

“Some mushroom soup made from stuff I gathered,” Shane says, taking a slurp from his own bowl and walking back to the pot in the kitchen. Once again, Ryan finds himself following and Shane takes his bowl, filling it with a ladleful before handing it back.

Maybe Shane isn’t too bad after all.

Ryan hurriedly takes another slurp, mind drifting back to his earlier hike. He’s sure he saw something, and even if he didn’t see it, his hair had stood on end and his instincts said fight or flight. With how the sun had darkened and everything went silent, it was almost like the forest itself turned on him.

“So, how do you think you’re gonna pay me back for healing you up?”

Ryan takes everything back, Shane sucks.

“What? Oh uh… I have some cash on me you can have if you need that. There're some bars in my backpack too,” Ryan lists off, now suddenly uncomfortable with the hot bowl in his hand. Is dinner going to cost him too? He sets the bowl down, stamping down the small headache that springs forward. God, he hopes Shane doesn’t want the Tylenol in his bag.

“Eh, don’t really need money. Food is kind of optional for me,” Shane says, downing his bowl before setting it down as well. Ryan takes a wary step back when Shane reaches out, unable to move away when Shane’s slim fingers rest around his wrist. Ryan’s breathing quickens and the familiar feeling of fight or flight returns. On cue, the fire that had been burning snuffs into an intimidating ball of hot embers. Ryan glances back at Shane and in the new lighting, he could swear the man’s eyes look black.

“I was thinking of something more service-oriented. Don’t need human things anymore,” Shane proposes and his voice distorts, shifting between sounding like one person to multiple people at once. His memories suddenly flood him all at once.

He fell down the ravine, shattering his legs and laying in agony until someone nonchalantly walked up to him. There was no worry in their steps even though a normal person would be concerned. The way the forest shadows bent around him, how the path circled over and over. What had Shane called himself earlier? Guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch…

Horror of the shadows.

“Fuck!” Ryan shouts, yanking his wrist from Shane. He was so busy connecting dots that he didn’t notice Shane’s grip tightening. He looks down at the skin, seeing a collection of raised red welts in the shape of a handprint. Shane doesn’t look offended whatsoever, his impasse grin almost shining in the darkness. The man takes a step toward Ryan and that’s when his body says flight.

Ryan turns around and makes a mad dash for the door, throwing it open and escaping into the night. As he suspects, the forest has turned villainous, tree limbs stretching to cover any moonlight. Ryan is running blindly back into the forest, slapping shrubs and kicking up dirt. Anything to get away from Shane.

Yet, as far as he runs, he can still feel the haunting presence chasing after him. It’s like the ravine again, only this time his legs work.

A scream is building in the back of Ryan’s throat, clawing at the walls of it but Ryan can’t bring himself to scream. There’s no one to hear him, nature itself is his enemy right now.

Ryan crashes through bushes, registering he’s on some sort of path and he immediately runs towards the faint glow of lights in the distance. His legs pump furiously underneath him. Survive, his brain demands. Survive or face something you’ve never known. Something far worse than death.

“Help!” Ryan screams at the first sign of life. He sees someone, someone human, sweeping their front porch as he bursts into the village. He stops to gasp and catch his breath, sparing a second to look over his shoulder.

Shane’s eyes are staring right back, not a single drop of worry as he leans casually against a tree. Ryan has to tear his eyes away from him, running up to the nearest person and catches her shoulder. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates, face frozen in shock as Ryan wheezes out his story.

“Please, please, you have to help me. Something is chasing me, it’s… I’m Ryan, please!” he begs, fingers trembling as she looks blankly into his face. He needs help, he needs…

She recovers enough to rest a hand on his wrist, about to say something before her eyes fly to the welts on his skin. Ryan watches her skin pale and he’s suddenly pushed away, the woman screaming a name as she flees into the safety of a growing crowd.

“I-I just need help, please,” Ryan asks again, reaching for the crowd. They all gasp and murmur, backing away from him like he has the plague. He can’t help but feel his heart break a little, covering the welts with his hand. The hairs on the back of his neck stand and he whirls around, taking a surprised step back when Shane is there now.

“You shouldn’t scare people like that, Ryan. They were getting ready to sleep for the night,” Shane says, holding out his hand. Ryan glances at it before darting his eyes back to Shane, taking another step back and hearing the crowd take one as well.

“He’s… You’re a monster!” Ryan shouts, hoping the people would have his back. There’s strength in numbers. If Ryan can at least get some people to try and shield him, there’s a chance Shane will back off and he can maybe find a place to stay until he gets his bearings right.

“Not really, no. Those things usually kill for fun. I don’t kill for anything,” Shane explains in a stupidly cool and collected voice. Ryan hazards a glance behind him, wanting to make sure the villagers were hearing this. All their eyes are watching Shane, a sort of reverence among them. They all seem so much calmer, their guards completely down. Ryan slowly turns back to Shane, that damned cool smile back on his face, like he’s been patiently waiting for Ryan’s attention again.

“Not a monster, not human either. Least, not anymore. I eat for taste now. So, if I’m not a monster and not a human, there’s only a handful of things that I can be.” Ryan watches Shane tap a slender finger against his lips before grinning widely, something distinctly inhuman about it. He claps his hands together and Ryan flinches, waiting for the pain to come. After a handful of seconds pass, he slowly opens his eyes, Shane holding his hands together.

“What?”

Shane doesn’t answer, just grins before turning. Ryan follows his gaze, gasping when fresh sunlight hits his eyes. He instinctively squints, shielding his eyes away. That’s impossible, the moon was barely halfway through the sky, dawn shouldn’t have been for another six hours.

A happy gasp startles him, the villagers applauding while Ryan stares on in horror. Shane stays facing the rising sun before turning around, the edges of his smile sharp as he addresses Ryan.

“Something like a minor god. Someone you owe your life to. My brother may have left the forest to sing for people, but I’m still here, just chilling,” Shane says and Ryan hates the shiver that runs down his spine, brain telling him Shane is telling the truth. He watches Shane slowly lift a hand, reaching up until it looks like he’s caressing the sun before dragging dawn back to night, the moon slowly rising to loom over them.

“I think you should go back to the cabin, Ryan,” Shane says and Ryan grinds his heels into the ground, ready to spit a biting “no” back. A wave of nausea comes over him and Ryan finds himself collapsing onto his knees, clutching his pounding head with his heads. The pain is strong enough for his vision to go white for a second and he barely feels himself be lifted until Shane’s back in his vision.

“You should go back to the cabin,” he repeats and Ryan, teeth grit from the pain, vaguely nods and the piercing ache disappears. Ryan chokes on a sigh of relief, shuffling his feet towards the direction he thinks the cabin is in. If Shane can change time, there’s little else he can do to stop. He belongs to a god of the forest, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

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The days that follow the incident at the village are, surprisingly, peaceful. Shane disappears for hours of the day, leaving Ryan with only a handful of things to do. The only bedroom in the cabin has silently become Ryan’s. Initially, Ryan tried to defy Shane. He would sit in his room and pretend to be back home, running video ideas through his brain. It worked, at first. Before long, the same overwhelming pain would attack his mind and he’d be left with no choice but to do what Shane asks.

The tasks are simple enough. Every morning, Ryan starts with collecting firewood and clearing the pathway to the cabin. Once the sun rolls to its peak, he’s supposed to go to the village to see what they need help with. Apparently, they haven’t seen an outsider in years and they’re interested in his stories. It’s kind of nice, really, to have an audience he can interact with. They aren’t interested in bite-sized videos, they want the entire story and don’t really care how long it takes. They ask questions, and slowly but surely, Ryan finds himself looking forward to seeing them.

Occasionally someone will have a task for him, like lifting heavy wood into the house or ask for his thoughts on building something since he’s seen outside tools. Ryan thinks it’s strange, but everything could be worse. He could be out there coercing other humans into the same fate, or even killing them. Shane asked him why he looked so glum and Ryan, no longer truly scared of him, asked why he had to serve. Shane didn’t explain why, just finished his meal and left Ryan to sit at the table.

Every fifth day is sacrifice day. Ryan initially imagined bloody effigies and other grotesque offerings so he had entered the village in small steps. To his surprise, there hadn’t been anything of the sort. Some would offer baskets of gathered food, others simply put a slip into Ryan’s hands. When he had unfolded one, it listed the deeds they’d done the week to help the forest.

The days start to blur together and when Ryan wakes up one morning, he can’t bring himself to be upset about being here. He’s forgetting how his bedroom in LA is decorated, hands starting to memorize the bedroom he has now instead. The idea of forgetting LA leaves a mixture of emotions in his gut and he kicks off the blankets, hoping the path is absolutely riddled with junk. He doesn’t want to think about LA.

Ryan tosses on a shirt a villager named Alex had given him, sliding into a pair of clean jeans and socks before opening the door to the main room. Shane is standing there, staring out a window with a knot between his brows. Ryan passes by him with a gentle “g’morning”, heading for the eggs and getting ready to make an omelet when he feels the beginnings of a headache tickle the back of his head.

“What, Shane?” he asks, turning around. He’s started to notice when Shane’s about to ask him something and that doesn’t annoy him. What does annoy Ryan, however, is when Shane forgets to vocally tell him something and leaves Ryan with a headache while he’s gone.

Shane’s still looking out the window and Ryan is about to turn around to continue with breakfast when the first wave of the headache rolls through him. Ryan pinches his eyes closed, turning around and gasping when Shane is right next to him.

“What the fu-“

“We gotta go to the village,” Shane says and the tone makes Ryan’s eyes widen. In all the days he’s been here, Shane has never spoken in something other than cool and collected. So freed from an invisible pressure Ryan always feels. Now, Shane sounds incredibly worried, like a problem could be on the horizon. Ryan doesn’t bother protesting, just rushes to the door after Shane, throwing on his sneakers and kicking into a jog when Shane starts to run towards the direction of the village.

There’s a gaggle of villagers right in the center, strained whispers buzzing around them. Ryan watches the people part for Shane to walk through, trailing after him. The scent hits him before he makes it through the crowd and when Ryan finally peeks over Shane’s side, he nearly vomits.

Four bodies lay side by side, polka dots of bloodstains on their clothes. Ryan can hardly process what he’s seeing, recalling their hello’s and laughter from just yesterday. His eyes can’t leave the bodies, staring at the vacant eyes and the pale skin. In the sun, he can see every wrinkle and there’s no stopping his brain from remembering every moment he spent with each of them. Taking dried herbs as a sacrifice, tightening ropes to keep a homemade broom together…

“Ryan.”

The human snaps out of it, gasping when he realizes Shane’s hands are holding his face. Ryan blinks and tears roll down his cheeks, sinking into the space between Shane’s fingers and his cheek.

“I knew them,” Ryan manages out and Shane’s face softens, eyebrows curling upwards before slowly releasing Ryan’s face and pulling him in. Ryan can’t find it in him to fear Shane right now, not when he looks so human with the emotion in his eyes. He sinks into Shane’s embrace, forehead resting on his flannel shoulder as tears soak into the thick material. He’s not sure how long he’s like that, just resting as the silence wraps them both.

“Sorry, I just…” Ryan pulls away, rubbing his eyes with his arm.

“No, it’s alright. Death is… real,” Shane says, looking between Ryan and the people. He slowly turns to them and sinks to one knee, slowly closing their eyes. The forest seems to respond to him, and Ryan can’t explain it with words. It’s like everything droops. Sunlight seems to dull and the air feels heavier on his shoulders. He feels grief in the air, as if the forest mourns for the fallen.

Shane stands and takes a step back, turning to Ryan with a look in his eyes. Ryan prepares for the itching of a headache but it never comes. They stand like that, god and man, for what feels like forever. Shane looks like he’s debating something, eyes occasionally flicking over Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan takes a glance behind him, finding the villagers looking to Shane for guidance. They all are, he realizes. Ryan is looking to Shane for direction.

“Go back to your business. Whatever came for them is coming to intimidate and I refuse to fear them. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. You have followed me for decades, centuries. I haven’t failed you yet and I don’t plan to. You two.” Shane points at two men. “Make sure they’re properly buried. They deserve to return to the home they built.”

The villagers quickly separate and Shane doesn’t spare them a glance as he heads for the exit. Ryan follows after him, unsure how to comfort Shane. He’s sure the guy must be hurting, especially if he’s some old blood god who’s watched over the village before those people had been born… Blank eyes flash in Ryan’s vision and he ducks his head, picking up his pace to keep up with Shane.

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More bodies are piling up. Soon, Ryan is the one responding to village whispers, volunteering to bury the ones who had been hunted. Shane has stopped going out in the mornings, now spending them at the front gate of the village. He doesn’t try to stop anyone from leaving, encouraging it even, but he does tell them to be careful. Still, people come back dying or carrying the dead.

Ryan’s hands have callouses where he’s gripped the shovel too tight.

“Shane,” Ryan says one night and the god looks up from his seat the fireplace. It may just be a trick of the light, but Shane looks more human than Ryan’s ever seen. His eyes are a bit sunken and his fingers are tightly wound together. His movements have lost their lackadaisical grace and Shane always looks so serious now.

“What’s happening?” Ryan asks, taking a seat next to him. Shane sighs and looks back at the fire, seeming to get lost in his own mind. Ryan looks into the fire as well, not expecting answers.

“… I used to be human.”

“What?” Ryan glances at Shane, now fully turning towards him. Shane doesn’t look at him, talking to the fireplace more than Ryan.

“Centuries ago, I came to this forest with my family and some friends. Slowly, I began to learn more and more about this place. People started to come to me for advice, and one day I found out I could do things. I’d close my eyes and open them somewhere else. I could hear the forest calling, I could… I knew every single thing that happened in the woods. If an outsider comes, I know exactly where they are. There’s no limit to my powers… I can manipulate the entire place to make someone walk in circles for hours, make them feel like it’s been hours when it’s really been seconds. I can do all of that…

“At least, I used to. The more people who follow me, the stronger I am. That village has been with me for centuries, Ryan. Now they’re dying. I’m getting weaker.”

Ryan is struck with how exhausted Shane looks in the fire, the bags under his eyes becoming incredibly deep. He wants to reach out and rest his hand on the god’s shoulders, wants to say it’ll be alright. However, Ryan isn’t blind to how impossibly mortal he is. There’s nothing he can do about the situation. His fingers brush against the raised welts on his wrist and shrinks further into the sofa.

“I can’t protect them. Whatever’s hunting them, I can’t protect them from it,” Shane says and it looks like it sobers him. The god rubs his face and sighs, leaning back against the sofa. He puts his hands down in favor of turning his gaze to Ryan, looking him with a reverence that made his stomach churn.

Wordlessly, Shane holds out his hand and Ryan settles his wrist into it, the slim fingers matching exactly where Shane had touched him all those weeks ago.

“Ryan, I care for my following with my life. They are the source of my power, they have given me home. I would die before I let any more of them die. I will die before I let you die.” Shane looks deep into Ryan’s eyes and he can’t breathe for a second, his heart hammering against its cage. Had he heard that right? Had Shane really said that?

“And with that, I set you free,” Shane says and Ryan feels an electric tingle run down his skin before Shane pulls away. The welts are gone, the skin there as soft as it had been before. Ryan holds it up to his face, running the tips of his fingers along the surface to find any trace of Shane’s mark. He can see Shane smile before turning back to the fireplace. The conversation is over before Ryan can even get any answers.

“Goodnight Shane,” Ryan says, slowly unfolding from the couch and heading for his room. He almost misses the quiet “goodnight, Ryan. I’ll miss you.”

The next morning, Shane isn’t in the kitchen or staring by the window. Instead, there are a few boiled eggs on the table and some food left in a Tupperware container. Ryan approaches the eggs, taking one and peeling it before taking a bite. Strange, he’s usually making his own food before starting his chores. Which he doesn’t have to do anymore. Ryan looks around the cabin, wondering if the headache will ever hit. He waits a few minutes more, just in case, but when it never comes, Ryan takes another egg and heads for his bedroom to grab his toothbrush.

A knock on the door interrupts him and Ryan squints at it. Shane isn’t one to knock to come into his own home, he hardly even uses the door. He’ll simply appear whenever he wants to be home. The villagers don’t like coming by the cabin, treating it like some sacrilege act. Ryan walks up to the door and unlocks it, opening it just a crack.

“Hello?”

Ryan’s eyes widen when he sees two men wearing proper hiking clothing standing at the door. He quickly opens it, swallowing the lump of an egg inside of his mouth and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Hello, good morning. How can I help you?” Ryan asks, heart racing at the sight of people from civilization.

“Hello, we were wondering if we could… help you,” one of them asks, gesturing at the cabin itself. Ryan looks up, finding nothing out of ordinary with the wood.

“What do you mean?” he asks. The hunters lean in as if to share a secret. Ryan almost doesn’t want to, but they look alright enough. He leans just enough out of the door to hear them clearly.

“We heard there’s something living in the cabin, something that takes people from their families. We can save you, friend. We’ve already crippled its church, soon it’ll be weak enough for us to kill it. Purge it from our forest.” The hunters lean away just as quickly as they leaned in and Ryan feels his hairs stand on end, spine locking him in the half-bent position he’s in.

“I… No, no. Just me living here,” Ryan quickly says, stepping back into the comfort of the cabin.

The hunters give him a doubtful look, one of them looking ready to reach for the knife Ryan can see strapped to his belt. Tension settles between the three of them and Ryan’s engaged in a staring contest, his smile getting weaker and weaker. They stay like that before one of them, an older man with a graying mustache, coughs and nods to the other hunter.

“Well, you let us know if you need any help, friend. We’ll be coming around these parts often,” he says and turns away from the door, his buddy following him after a long second. Ryan waves to them and as soon as they’re gone, he quickly shuts the door and presses his back against it, heart racing. Holy shit, the people… The villagers. Those guys are the ones who have been hunting down the villagers. They’re like… pillagers. Murderers.

Ryan quickly decides to tell Shane as soon as he comes back, making a beeline for his bedroom to get ready. He has to get to the village too, tell them to stay inside and lock the doors. There has to be a safer place to evacuate them, but Ryan doesn’t know if Shane needs to be a certain distance from his following or else his powers die… Shane hasn’t been able to manipulate time or space of the forest in a while, saying he’s left with only his strength and not much of it.

Ryan reaches for his backpack and pauses when he sees it neatly zipped up. He looks at it for a second, sure it should be completely open and some things spilling out. Ryan had unpacked his things, resolved to living in the cabin with Shane. Even when the welts had been removed, no thought of going back had crossed his mind. Ryan slowly unzips his bag and finds all of his clothes rolled up and his bottle full of cool water.

“You were waiting for me to go,” Ryan murmurs to himself, standing up straight when he hears the locks on the front door click. He quickly dashes back to the door to his room, closing it to a crack just in case the pillagers had wanted to come back for another “friendly chat”. Slowly, the top lock undoes and the deadbolt is expertly removed, Shane’s head popping into the house.

“Shane,” Ryan breathes out and opens the door, gasping when Shane jumps nearly a foot into the air.

“What? What’re you still doing here?” Shane asks, looking at the eggs at the table and the food. Ryan tilts his head before snorting, patting his hands on his pants.

“You thought I was going to leave? You’re joking. Not when you need my help. Listen, Shane, I saw them. The people who’ve been killing the villagers. They came up to the door and asked if I ‘needed help’,” Ryan explains, gesturing at the door. Shane’s eyes impossibly darken, reminding Ryan of the first night he saw them go completely black. It’s been a while since he’s seen Shane do that. His brown eyes now just reflect the dangerous quiet inside of Shane.

“They came? Are you okay?” Shane asks, turning his attention back to Ryan. Ryan pats himself down and shrugs. They hadn’t bothered trying to take him out, though he doesn’t want to say one of them looked ready to get at him. If he had even resembled the villagers, would Shane have found his body in the cabin?

“I’m fine, but we have to do something Shane. This can’t keep going on,” Ryan insists and relishes the complete look of surprise on Shane’s face. Something other than sad or passive, perfect.

“You care about the villagers, right?”

“I told you last night, of course I d-“

“Then we need to find a way to get your powers back. You can’t protect them from these weird fucks if all you can do is break something from pressing on it too hard.” Ryan looks at Shane with a challenge in his eyes, now thankful Shane had “set him free”. If he hadn’t been, Ryan is sure he’d be suffering from a major migraine right now.

Shane looks back at Ryan with a foreign expression, looking like he’s thinking over the idea. Slowly, his face gets lighter and lighter until there’s a spark of determination in his eyes. Ryan smiles as Shane nods.

“There’s a place in the village we need to see. It’ll have a way, we just need to find it,” Shane says and Ryan follows him out of the cabin, both of them bordering on breaking into a jog for the village.

The place Shane wants is the history keeper’s house, a place filled to the brim with journals detailing not only every villager to have lived with Shane’s power, but dozens upon dozens of books from people who studied Shane’s powers. Over time, the curiosity had been sated, though a few books are being revised into more modern English.

Shane completely disregards books with modern binding, going straight for the oldest section of the home and pulling out a heaping armful of ancient scribblings and setting them on the nearest available surface. Ryan follows suit, pulling out his own pile and tossing it onto a nearby empty desk. Shane sits and begins to rifle through the nearest one and that’s how the two begin to spend their days. For about three days, Ryan and Shane live in the village library, peeling through yellowed paper underneath firelight. Occasionally, Ryan will show Shane something that resembles power or ancient deities. Every time, Shane would tell him that’s not what he’s looking for, that he’s already tried that method.

In those three days, Ryan is the one bringing the both of them food. They’re too scared for the remaining villagers to have Shane leave for the cabin, fearing if he does leave, someone will die. Ryan plays messenger, running the two of them hard-boiled eggs or mushroom soup whenever they get hungry. The villagers have taken on the task of leaving some snacks at the door whenever they can, though, with the low labor count, a lot of their focus is keeping their farms tidy and making sure anyone who lost family is taken care of.

Slowly, Ryan finds himself helping Shane whenever he catches the god asleep. He’ll gently shake Shane’s shoulders and when that doesn’t work, Ryan will peel his cheek off of whatever he’s reading and throw a blanket over him. Shane always wakes up when Ryan leaves for food or water, but the kind looks he offers when Ryan looks at him are enough.

On the fourth day, Ryan feels ready to tear his hair out, Shane just a step behind him. They both feel exhausted and, as Ryan pulls another book off a shelf, the situation looks rather grim. All the methods Shane has found have all been proven false and unless someone comes up with a breakthrough, there likely isn’t a way for Shane to gain his powers back without a new following. Ryan finds himself fighting the thought, but he can’t help feeling like they’ve reached an end neither of them want.

“What about this one? I can’t read it,” Ryan says, flipping the book over and showing Shane a page full of a scribble Ryan can’t read. The god takes a look at it, eyes darting over the passages as he reads before scoffing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s all bullshit, Ryan. Just some children’s fairy tale. Toss it,” Shane says, going back to leafing through his own book. Ryan presses his lips together, turning the book over and trying to make out some words. It doesn’t look promising, no pictures whatsoever. If Shane can read it and thinks it’s not going to help, it’s not going to. Ryan shuts the book and sets it on their mountain of finished material.

Another hour passes by them when Shane suddenly stands, knocking the desk he’s using. Ryan almost jumps, watching Shane head for the door and throw it open. He’s about to turn back to the umpteenth journal on witchcraft when he hears Shane yelling outside.

“What the fuck?” Ryan asks, abandoning his own desk and heading out.

“My people. My family,” Shane starts as Ryan joins the circle of villagers.

“You all have to leave. This place, our forest, is no longer safe for you. You have given generations to me and our forest, but I’ve failed you. I have failed, and I have allowed your family to die. You were once amazed by my powers, when I could bring the sun up in the dead of night, when you would always find your way home no matter how far you wandered into the forest. I can’t do that for you anymore, I can hardly be the god you all need. And you all deserve better.”

Shane looks over his family and Ryan can see the mourning sadness in his eyes. The forest doesn’t even respond it anymore, benignly watching from the outskirts of the village. It breaks Ryan’s heart.

“You all deserve better, and I am not that. Please. Leave by the next morning. For your safety, for your family’s safety. I will always be able to find you, no matter how far you go. The forest lives on in each of you.” Shane claps his hands and pulls his lips into a taut line, turning his back to the crowd and walking towards the trees. Ryan looks around and finds the faces of distraught villagers trying to make plans with one another. To stay and possibly die or to leave and abandon the only life they know.

Ryan can’t hear it right now, pushing around people to chase after Shane. He manages to catch up to him, the two of them making a beeline for the cabin.

“Hey, hey! Shane! Wait,” Ryan asks, stepping in front of the god. Shane spares him a look before dodging around him, still stomping towards the cabin. Ryan sighs and continues his chase, stepping in front of Shane before he makes it to the door.

“Wait, what happened to trying? What happened to saving them?” Ryan asks, hating how Shane can’t meet his eyes. The god looks so small despite being a full head taller than Ryan. He looks like he’s struggling, and when Ryan glances down, Shane’s hands are tightly clenched into fists.

“This is saving them, Ryan. I have to let them go to save them. If they stay here, they get murdered. If they run, if they can get far far away from here, then just maybe they have a chance. I can’t do it for them, I can’t even do my little… Shadow thing anymore,” Shane confesses, finally meeting Ryan’s eyes. They’re glossy, the shine of a thousand stars dancing in Shane’s unshed tears. Ryan looks up at him, his heart knotting itself in his chest. They can’t… If the villagers leave, if Shane loses his entire following, he’ll just be a man again. A man vulnerable to bullets and knives just like the rest of them.

“You’ll die,” Ryan whispers, the words tasting awful even to him.

“I know. For them, I will,” Shane replies, scratching his face.

“… There’s something we can do, there has to be something,” Ryan desperately asks, almost begging the forest itself to pull a solution from thin air.

“There is, and I’ve done it, Ryan. I set them free, don’t you get it? You can leave, you can go back to LA and you can go back to being a normal person. You don’t have to see this all end,” Shane says, spitting “this” out like the word had offended him. Ryan gapes at Shane, unable to say anything as the god pushes him aside and enters the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Go back? To LA? That’s what he wanted right, to go back to the life he had known before Shane, before this whole adventure began. Ryan had wanted nothing more than to get back to the apartment he could barely afford and sit in the comfort of his Ikea couch, warm laptop sitting on his thighs. Looking back into the forest now, however, Ryan doesn’t know how he could ever go back. LA seems so loud now, all the cars screaming at odd hours of the day. In the wilderness here, all Ryan has to do is hold his breath and silence will fill him with enough peace to last a lifetime.

“I don’t want to,” Ryan murmurs and it feels like his soul agrees with him. LA isn’t where he should be, the forest is home now. Ryan presses a hand against the door to the cabin, sucking in a deep breath before pushing it open.

Shane is sitting in front of the fireplace, except there’s nothing more than smoking ashes in the hearth. The entire cabin looks devoid of happiness, sunlight not helping how gray the entire home feels. Ryan slowly steps in, the wood creaking underneath his feet.

“Shane?” Ryan asks, stepping around the sofa to take a seat by his side. Shane sighs and looks at Ryan to show him he’s listening.

“What did that book say?”

“Ryan, it doesn’t matter, it’s all lies.”

“Yeah, but what if it isn’t? C’mon, it can’t be bad. Just… humor me. Tell me what it’s about and if it’s impossible, we’ll drop it,” Ryan says and Shane seems to study him for a moment before bursting into a humorless chuckle.

“It said… Says that the power of true love is equal to having the power of gods in my veins. That if I found someone to spend eternity with, I just have to perform a ritual and I will literally become a god and not have to rely on a following to keep my power,” Shane explains drily and Ryan hates the sarcastic look he gives. He’s distracted, however, by exactly what Shane says. The power of true love? To spend eternity with someone?

Ryan can’t help the warmth he feels in his ears, blood suddenly becoming a roar in them. He looks away from Shane, back at the door out of the cabin. Shane shifts and Ryan figures he’s probably staring at the ashes again. He feels so far away, and Ryan wants nothing more than to reach out and touch Shane again. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he misses the sound of Shane’s carefree boisterous laughter, and the way he stoops over when he’s doing something. How cool he was, how the problems of life just rolled off his back like water on a duck. Ryan misses that…

He misses the true Shane.

“Listen, your backpack is still packed. You still have time to get a headstart before those guys probably-“

Ryan can’t take any more of the martyr talk, picking himself off the couch and crashing onto Shane’s body, their lips sloppily aligning. Ryan’s kiss misses, too much to the right. He tries again, pressing their warm lips together and enjoying the fireworks show going off in his gut. Ryan didn’t realize this is what he’s craved from the forest, the warmth from Shane’s body and the tremble in Shane’s hands as they slowly rest on Ryan’s body.

“True love? Right?” Ryan asks and Shane’s eyes are clouded over with a new emotion before he quickly nods.

“Ritual?” Ryan asks again and Shane’s nodding as he pulls Ryan in for another kiss. The human quickly obliges, their lips bypassing whatever dance they’ve been doing and going straight to passionate love. Ryan feels Shane’s hands reverently brush along his back, guiding him to a more comfortable position on the couch. Everything Shane touches burns alight and Ryan gasps when strong hands grab his waist, pressing thumbs against his hip bones.

“What do you gotta do for the ritual,” Ryan pants against Shane’s lips when he breaks for air. Shane blinks at him before a smile just a touch shy of the one Ryan misses spreads on his lips.

“Just need to get some herbs together, draw a few sigils here and there, and well…” Shane seems to blush at what he’s about to say next, looking down at where their hips are settled against each other. He gives a filthy roll of his hips and Ryan groans at the delicious friction. Shane’s hands press Ryan flush against the god, leaving no space between their bodies as Shane presses his lips against Ryan’s ear.

“It involves wearing your sheets down until they’re nothing more than threads,” Shane whispers and the heated undertone of the message drags a pleasurable shiver down Ryan’s spine. Shane leans back to look into Ryan’s eyes, and he hopes he likes what he finds because soon enough, Shane is lifting Ryan off the couch, keeping Ryan’s legs wrapped around his waist. Superhuman strength indeed.

Ryan’s tossed onto the bed and Shane gives him one last heated look before tearing off to find the correct herbs. Ryan reaches for his backpack and pulls out a thick Sharpie from the front pocket, tossing it to Shane once he comes back into the room. He trades Ryan a bowl of crushed herbs that Ryan sprinkles around the room. Once they’re all gone, Ryan hurriedly tosses his clothes into a lump onto the floor and jumps on the bed, watching Shane draw artful sigils all over the cabin walls. Those aren’t coming off soon, but Ryan can’t bring himself to give a damn.

In a mixture of soon enough and far too late, Shane is on top of Ryan, smothering his neck with bites and open mouth kisses that make him squirm. The room is filled with the sounds of Ryan gasping at each of Shane’s touches, the god playing him like an instrument.

“Ryan,” Shane says and Ryan can barely lift his head to look down at Shane, eyes rolling back when he sees Shane smiling up at him from his crotch.

“Yeah? Do we… Is there something else we have to do?” Ryan manages to slur out, his words weighed down by the lust in the room. Shane chuckles and the sound paired with the vibration makes Ryan shiver again, hips bucking up involuntarily. A heavy hand presses him back onto the mattress, Shane pulling up so their eyes can properly meet.

“No, but I do have to do this in another form,” Shane murmurs and Ryan nods, holding his god’s cheeks and pulling into a kiss. As their lips crash against each other, Ryan’s fingers feel Shane’s skin change textures, going from its typical feeling to a much more indescribable feeling. The best he can say is he feels like he’s touching the void, where nothing and everything meet right in the middle.

“Oh fuck,” Ryan groans when he opens his eyes, taking stock of what he can see. The room seems to have disappeared into Shane’s form, and Ryan can’t be too sure but he can faintly make out a handful of eyes staring at him.

“Still want to do the ritual?” a voice asks. It’s more like layers upon layers of voices are talking to him, but Shane’s voice rings over all of them.

Ryan looks around the voice before choosing a pair of eyes to stare into. The human smirks and stretches himself into a pleasing line, stretching out and making suggestive moans before slowly, reverently, opening his legs for Shane.

“Come get me, big guy.”

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Sunlight streams through the opened curtains in the bedroom, the light shining right onto Shane’s closed eyes. He groans, throwing one of his arms to try and save himself some more sleep but it’s too late. He’s slowly waking up from a pleasant dream and he makes a note to curse the sun for doing that. Shane rolls onto his side, pausing when Ryan makes a sleepy noise of protest from his position against Shane’s arm.

“G’morning to you too,” Shane greets in a sleepy growl, kissing Ryan’s temple. He’s tempted to see if his powers did return, but right now, with Ryan sound asleep against him, Shane can’t really bring himself to try and make the sun sink back into the horizon. Watching Ryan sleep, all the worry and doubt smoothed from his forehead, is slowly becoming one of Shane’s favorite past times. He wants to say the book had been preaching utter bullshit, but here he is, watching his human snore against his arm.

“Forest god!”

The peacefulness of the morning is shattered by the shout and Shane’s eyes narrow, feeling the presence of two outsiders outside the cabin. There’s another person with them, a much more familiar presence. Shane presses his lips together before gently stealing his arm back from Ryan, giving his human another kiss on the cheek.

“Promise not to kill them, s’long as they don’t try to take a shot at me,” he murmurs before leaving the warmth of the bed. Shane manages to throw on his clothes from yesterday, combing his hair with his fingers as he steps out of the door. His eyes immediately find one of his followers kneeling between the two outsiders, a gun aimed squarely behind her head. She’s the village doctor, one of the kindest people Shane has ever seen in the village.

“Hello, g’morning,” Shane greets them, his smile returning to his face. The forest rustles to return the greeting, the sound widening his grin. It feels good to be one with it again, to feel each and every creature and plant living inside of it.

“We know you’re getting weak, forest god. When you’re gone, we’ll finally be able to take this place, we’ll become our own gods!” one of them shouts and Shane is a little miffed about being shouted at in the morning. He should be in bed, holding Ryan and telling him to go back to sleep when he tries to wake up.

“Yeah, about that… I don’t really like the fact that you killed off almost half of my family and now you’re trying to threaten me,” Shane bites back, smile shifting into a more predatory territory. He keeps his eyes on the doctor, incredibly proud of how she stays still. Her faith in him is rolling off her shoulders, giving him a fresh power high Shane hasn’t tasted in a while.

Shane’s about to ask for their last words when the door to the cabin creaks open. Ryan steps out, dressed as well. He looks grim, eyes darting between Shane, the hunters, and the hostage. Shane is getting ready to tell Ryan to head back in, that this whole thing will be over shortly when Ryan decides to do the talking for him.

“Haven’t you guys done enough? You guys are human as well, you know. You’ve literally committed mass murder because of some power fantasy, and for what? He’s lost his family, his powers. You’ve taken everything from him,” Ryan protests, walking to Shane’s side. Shane bites his tongue from revealing that his powers are, most definitely, not gone. They’ve returned almost tenfold.

“Not everything,” the older human says and draws his gun, pointing it square at Ryan.

Shane doesn’t want to call himself a violent person, doesn’t want to call himself a monster, but seeing the gun aimed at Ryan breaks a restraint in him. With a god’s blood in his veins, the forest snaps and everything goes dead silent. A cloud envelops the sun and Shane melts into the shadows cast on the ground. The darkness eats up the distance between Shane and the pillagers, his dozens of eyes opening within the shadows.

“Oh fuck!” Shane hears in the mess, too busy chasing after one of them running off. He can feel the doctor run towards Ryan, and his love using his body to shield her. It only makes his heart warm as Shane does his job. He’s the guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch. Anything unwelcome to his forest will only find one way out, and with the blood of his family on these outsiders’ hands, Shane doesn’t imagine their escape being easy.

Reaching a clawed hand for the outsider he’s chasing, Shane snatches him up and tears him through the forest, unable to keep track of what limb is lost where. By the time he stops to check, the human is a mess of dislocated limb and torn flesh, eyes already dull of life. Shane tosses the pile of flesh into a bush, wiping the blood off on his flannel. He opens himself to find the other one, wondering if he should bring him to see what became of his companion.

He’s prepared to sink into the shadows again when a sharp pain stings through his lower back. Shane gasps and trips forward, falling through the shadows and shedding off all his extra limbs and eyes. When he comes to, he’s back in front of the cabin, staring at the pillager holding a bloody knife. Ryan’s eyes are wide and his skin looks starkly pale. Everyone is stunned in a dark silence before Ryan falls forward. It’s all Shane needs to break from his stupor, a bubbling rage consuming his mind. A visceral scream tears through his throat and he disappears, opening his godly maw underneath the pillager. His teeth pierce through the earth, appearing like toothy columns around the man. Shane slams his jaws together, the sickly wet pop of crushing the man satisfying to his ears.

He drags the carcass deep into the forest soil, leaving it in a cursed spot he doesn’t want to remember. Shane crawls back to the surface as quickly as he can, clawing for the surface to see Ryan, to check on him. It’s only been a day, he can’t… The terror of possibly losing Ryan grips Shane and he simply materializes in front of the house, ready to bust in when the doctor suddenly opens the door.

“My God,” she greets as respectfully as she can. “Some space, please. He is being bandaged up, and I would prefer silence over your hovering.” She nods once before closing the door again, leaving Shane in a stunned daze. He takes a step away from the door before his pacing begins.

If Ryan dies, does that mean Shane’s powers go with him? Who gives a damn about the powers, Ryan could potentially be dead, dying inside right now. Damn the powers, damn everything. Shane will happily give it all up if it means Ryan can live. If it’s safer for Ryan to be far far away from Shane, hundreds of miles away, so be it. Shane will wither in the forest, he’ll die a million times before he lets Ryan die.

After what feels like an eternity, the door to the cabin opens and Shane immediately rushes forward.

“Doctor, Ryan… How is he?” Shane asks as patiently as he can, trying to peer over her and into the cabin. The fireplace is going again, what did that mean.

“My God… I… I did what I could, I just don’t. There’s something you must see,” she answers, face completely pale. Shane fears for the worst in that moment, pushing past her and throwing the door open.

Sitting by the fireplace, bundled in a fur blanket, is Ryan. His silhouette is decorated by the glow of the fire and when Shane approaches, he can see the peaceful expression on his love’s face. Shane drops to his knees at Ryan’s side, reaching out to take his hand. The couch is absolutely littered with used medical materials, some of the bandaged made of torn clothing.

“Ryan?” Shane asks, hands trembling as he touches his hand, taking it in his own. It’s still so warm, and if Shane concentrates, he can feel Ryan’s heartbeat through the tips of his fingers. Ryan breaks his stare at the fire and looks at Shane, grinning at him before nodding to the bandages at his side. Shane slowly turns his gaze down and finds streaks of a liquid not unlike gold staining the fabrics.

“What? How?” Shane asks, picking up one of the stained bandages. He holds it up to the light of the fire and then looks at Ryan again, balling the fabric in his hand. “Ryan, are you…”

Ryan gives him another smile before shedding the blanket, turning to show the spot where the knife had gone in. There is a row of neat stitches and smears of the same metallic gold liquid on the skin. No part of Ryan looks in pain. In fact, he looks… at peace.

Shane senses the forest trembling without ever seeing it, feels it entirely shift and warp to accommodate something just as powerful as Shane entering it. It buckles, threatening to shatter and throw the two of them out and Shane waits with bated breath as Ryan slowly turns around to meet Shane’s questioning gaze.

“I can feel it. Everything in the forest.”

“What does that mean?” Shane asks, voice delicate. He’s scared of the answer.

Ryan reaches out and cups Shane’s cheek, the god unable to keep himself from leaning into the touch.

“You don’t have to spend eternity alone anymore, Shane. You’re not the only god of the forest anymore.”

“You know you can’t kill me yourself, so you brought friends!” Shane says, tone far more jovial than he feels. “Lovely! I’ve always wanted to meet a room full of things like me. Monsters that go oogie boogie in the dark.” Shane chuckles humorlessly, calmly reaching out and picking up a little necklace said to make communication with the dead easier. He turns the locket in his hand before tossing it at the yellow eyed demon, watching her fanged maw swallow the thing whole.

“Hungry aren’t ya? Wouldn’t you love a good soul to crunch on,” Shane says and spares Ryan a glance over his shoulder. His human has come to crouching with his back to a corner, eyes darting wildly between artifacts in the room. Still alive then. Good, Shane thinks as he feels portions of human flesh peel back to reveal demonic scales and leathery skin.

“Just gotta keep it that way,” Shane thinks aloud, his voice becoming many. His eyes flicker black as night, a symbol of his status amongst the demon hierarchy. Yellow eyes stare back at him and Shane almost tastes the vitriol Annabelle feels. Even better, he thinks as he draws a long-buried power from within himself. The angry ones fight harder.

~oξo~

Blood. Shane is really getting tired of the goddamn taste of it. Between Ryan shaking behind him and the spirits and demons edging closer to their cornered position, Shane really has to wonder how he came to be here.

With the combined powers of a demon just one rung below him in power and the plethora of cursed objects in the room, the Annabelle demon has enough power to make Shane nervous. There’s a couple of open wounds Shane can feel, not enough magic or strength left in him to patch them up. If he leaves this human body, he’s sure the original man will die the moment his influence disappears. No human walks away from being clawed at by this army.

“Sh-Shane? You okay?” Ryan asks, heavily favoring his right side and blood running down the length of his left arm. If only he hadn’t tried to help, had understood his mortality and stayed out of the goddamn way.

“Yeah, fine,” he hoarsely replies, Ryan flinching at the sound of his voice. If they survive this, there’s going to be a very deep long talk about everything.

Shane gasps as something, some spirit reaches through his human body and squeezes his stomach, winding him as the very real pain runs up and down his spine, forcing him to heave what remains in his stomach. It’s all Annabelle needs as she shoots out for him, arm outstretched and snatching Shane’s mortal throat, digging her nails into his voice box. She lifts him clean off the floor and Shane barely hears Ryan scream. For the first time in his damned life, Shane panics, hand going to her wrist as she squeezes harder and cuts deeper into his source of power. His voice, his everything. The tool he’s used to influence wars and throw entire empires off balance, the one method he’s been able to talk Unsolved into success, how he’s been able to protect Ryan from all the spirits he taunts.

“Fuck,” Shane gurgles, blood starting to pour into his esophagus. The sound of flesh bending and warping, tearing in places it shouldn’t, warns Shane of how little time he has left with his power. His voice will come back but healing, even when encouraged by demonic magic, takes a while to finish. He’ll be next to useless for at least an hour if she tears his voice out and when a minute is too long in this hell hole, Shane can’t even dream of Ryan surviving an hour without his help.

He stares into her eyes, those pus yellow beads that resent him so much. She doesn’t want him, she wants the meat behind him. Wants the soul that came willingly back to the Warrens, the good inside of Ryan is too tempting for them. Ha, if only Ryan knew how he looked to the other side. A great beacon of hope, something that could satisfy them for eons to come.

Without him though, Shane loses everything. Loses the popcorn banter they always have when Ryan invites him over for a movie, loses the way their elbows bump together when they edit videos. He’ll never hear Ryan’s whooping laughter when they answer clever questions for Post Mortem, nor will he get the opportunity to tease him about being scared of every little noise. Fuck, Shane thinks, sure he’d cry if he wasn’t in so much pain. Fuck, fuck! He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to but for Ryan...

Shane sets aside his pride.

With the rest of his power reserve, Shane opens his mouth and out comes a language that’s primal, more clicks of tongue and teeth than coherent syllables.

“Andrew,” he wheezes and like magic, a wave pushes from Shane, shoving all demonic energy away from the pair. Shane collapses to his knees, hand immediately going to his throat to stop the bleeding. He tries to wheeze but blood only rushes down his throat, Shane spitting a mouthful of it out. As the chaos settles and the spirits are turning their attention back to him, a resounding click echoes in the silence. Shane weakly holds up an arm to shield Ryan from the sound, black eyes turned warily at the door. If it worked, if the summoning really worked...

“Little Shaney,” a pleasant voice croons, slowly turning the door open. Somehow the sound makes his spine rattle harder than anything in the room. Andrew appears, one slim hand holding the door’s handle. He looks just as he does in all the concert recordings and press photos Shane sees on his Twitter, a mop of curly brown hair and patchy beard hairs. He must have summoned him from a performance because there’s a thin shine of sweat on his forehead and his eyes are hidden behind trendy sunglasses. Shane hates his goddamn guts.

“Little Shaney, a warning would have been appreciated. It’ll be hard to explain why I just disappeared,” Andrew says, not a tint of worry in his voice. Shane can tell he’s looking at his throat and Andrew hums, crouching down to grab Shane’s jaw and tilt him this way and that. For a demon, Andrew has too motherly instincts, Shane thinks, sure Andrew can hear him. Shane bats his hand away and flicks his head at Annabelle as she slowly picks herself off the floor.

All other artifacts and spirits of the room have gone stock still and Shane can’t help but appreciate how Andrew makes things simply freeze when he arrives. If he were any less fascinated with humans, Shane is sure there would be many more wars and disasters rained upon them.

“Annabelle,” Andrew greets, talking to her like she’s an old friend. He languidly stands, walking towards her as he takes his glasses off. His arms are outstretched, as if he’s going to embrace the demon.

Annabelle immediately crouches defensively, hissing at the approaching man. Andrew chuckles and looks over his shoulder at Shane, red eyes somehow blinking in a friendly way. However, Shane can see right through his façade, eyeing the rigidness in his spine and the way his grin has a hint of a primal energy in the corners. With a very smug feeling blossoming in his throat, Shane can’t help but think about how fucked everything in the room is.

“Holy shit, is that Hozier?!” Ryan hisses, his good hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Shane resounds, unable to keep the respect from his tone. He really wanted to sound irritated with Andrew but it’s hard when he came to save their lives.

“Hello, Ryan. We should talk after this,” Andrew calls, offering a sweet smile before turning his attention fully to the black Annabelle demon. Shane watches her hiss and try to swat at Andrew, always missing because she pulls back at the last second. She’s afraid of hurting him, Shane realizes. Afraid to hurt a demon so high in the hierarchy but afraid to be smithed by his hands too.

“Annabelle, don’t tell me being in that coffin made you forget!” Andrew calls out, tone still so goddamn friendly. “Don’t you remember? Shane and I, we were born just two days apart. I, from the world’s first love song, and he from the first destructive fire. Course, he’s younger, funny how that worked out...” he calls, looming over her. Shane hears the damnation loud and clear. You bullied my younger brother.

“Annabelle, you haven’t been out for a while so, I’ll just give you a lesson.” Andrew bends over and snatches the demon by her throat, a plea or a hiss silenced by his hand. His red eyes stare deep into her yellow ones, the gap between their powers palatable in the air. “If you are a yellow eyed demon, you are nothing. Not even the gravel under my shoes. Your power scares humans but to me, your powers are party tricks. Black eyed demons outrank you, and I am a red eyed demon. Do you know what that means, Annabelle?”

The demon chokes on something but Hozier pays her no heed, continuing with his lecture.

“It means I am eons stronger than you. It means I can do this,” he purrs and Shane barely has time to shield Ryan’s eyes before the yellow eyed demon simply explodes. Blood splashes across the shelves and walls of the room, chunks falling off and hitting the floor immediately after. Shane almost wants to vomit at the sight of it all and he’s not at all surprised when Ryan does just that, heaving all down the back of Shane’s shirt.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and Shane makes a gesture to say it’s alright since his voice is almost destroyed. They both stand and Ryan looks over to Andrew, who is turning around to meet them. There must be something terrifying because Ryan freezes up and Shane looks over at Andrew, seeing the same friendly smile and the gore running down his face. He takes a step towards him and Ryan, bless him or damn him, immediately moves to stand between them, still clutching his bad arm and shaking to his knees. The gesture warms Shane’s dead heart and it must amuse Andrew since he chuckles and doesn’t immediately squish Ryan’s head like a bad grape.

“Come along, let’s enjoy some sunlight,” Andrew says and breezes past them, out the door from where he came. Shane gently pushes Ryan towards the direction, limping after his “older brother” and hoping Ryan will trail along.

The sun is too bright against Shane’s eyes as his body hurriedly tucks away any demonic parts. His horns retreat back into his skull, his skin does its best to hide his scales and such... He’s still bleeding from his throat.

“Shaney,” Andrew calls and Shane gives him a look before thin fingers run over his throat. All damage there heals up, muscles realigning and skin covering up the patches left from Annabelle’s claws. If he could see down there, Shane is sure he’d see Andrew’s sigil burning before evaporating into nothing.

“Andrew,” Shane addresses, voice back to his normal tone. Hozier laughs and pats Shane’s shoulder, looking over at Ryan behind them. The movement makes Shane’s hackles rise.

“This one, my brother? Are you sure?” Andrew asks and Shane scoffs, not ready to dignify the question with an answer.

“Alright then. Tweet me some time hm? I’ve been told my tweets are rather... meme worthy,” Andrew says and Shane can’t help but laugh at that. Meme sounds funny when Andrew says it, in that sophisticated tone he always uses.

“Ryan,” Andrew calls and the believer in question makes a noise before shuffling over. Andrew greets him with a gentle hand on his head and a soft smile, gazing down at him with such a fondness that it makes Shane’s skin crawl. He looks away quickly, sure the stress can’t be good for his healing body. They must be talking, thought Shane can’t be sure since Andrew is staring so intently at Ryan.

“Well, I should be off. I was in the middle of a concert after all,” Hozier says suddenly and Shane rolls his eyes.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself before you show up in front of people,” he reminds and Andrew’s lips curl into a grin.

“I could say the same to you, Little Shaney,” he says before singing a belting wordless melody, a shimmering veil bending to his voice. Andrew reaches out and throws it open like a curtain, a peek of a stage and rushing applause of an audience bursting through before Andrew disappears through the portal, gone in the blink of an eye.

Shane stares at where his brother was, only broken from his trance when Ryan clears his throat.

“So... demon huh? Black eyed one?” he asks, almost shy about it. Shane can’t help the smile that breaks across his face, sucking in a deep breath and willing all their wounds to heal, a little demonic miracle of his own. Once their skin and blood is back where it should be, Shane hums and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Hey Sara, TJ needs your opinion on something. He says he has no idea what color to paint something in the backdrop,” Ryan says, giving her a dazzling grin. Shane looks at the actor before looking at Sara, who presses her lips together in a shy smile and says she’s on her way, giving Shane a look before scampering off. Oh, so there might be two showmances happening…

Well, as long as it didn’t distract people from the show…

“Hey Shane.”

Shane looks up from his checklist to see Ryan still standing there, his smile dimmed just a bit but enough to appear friendly. The actor doesn’t really done much to offend Shane, aside from occasional prank and times he’d shown up hungover.

“Hey,” Shane returns, pretending not to know the actor’s name. He folds up his checklist and slips it into the back pocket of his jeans, ready to end their short-lived conversation to check on crew in the back.

“I’m Ryan, nice to meet you. I saw you in the script reading?” Ryan says, now sticking out his hand. Shane internally sighs but meets Ryan’s smile with an easy smile of his own. He shakes the actor’s hand.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re playing Scrooge right?” he asks and Ryan seems shy with the attention.

“Yeah, I am.” Ryan seems at a loss for conversation and Shane offers him a slight smile.

“I really have to go check on someone, I’ll see you in rehearsals,” Shane says, nodding to him. Ryan almost looks disappointed but the actor nods nonetheless, sparing Shane from anything awkward.

“Yeah, totally. See you during rehearsals,” he says but Shane is already walking away.

Sara suddenly materializes next to Ryan and has her cheeky smile on her face as she leans against Ryan’s side. The actor pays her no attention but her mischievous vibes are impossible to ignore.

“You’re staring,” Sara remarks and Ryan quickly turns away, feeling his cheeks heat up as he glares at her. Sara hums happily.

“He’s going to be in the Secret Santa, y’know,” she sings to Ryan and he shakes his head, unable to hide the smile blooming on his face. He leaves her standing where she is, off to try and control his blush before lending a hand around the stage.

Everyone Sara invited to the Secret Santa drawing is packed in her living room, chatting with one another about the musical or classes. Similar majors grouped together and members of the same crew cliqued to discuss what they were worried about or looking forward to. Shane had gotten caught up with some homework and wound up being late to the little get together, showing up when everyone else had already grouped up. Sara hands him a can of beer and pushes him towards the hubbub.

Shane immediately tucks his free hand into the pocket of his jacket, steering himself against one of the walls of the room before cracking open the beer. It froths but doesn’t foam out of the top, Shane eagerly taking a sip of it. It doesn’t taste incredible but they’re all broke college students. If you wanted quality, you wouldn’t be drinking beer for starters.

“Hey Shane! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Shane turns, still in the middle of his first sip when Ryan suddenly materializes in front of him. Shane quickly swallows his beer and offers a tight smile.

“Well, can’t always be a Scrooge, I guess. That's your job,” he says and chuckles, winking at the actor. Ryan laughs a bit too hard at the joke and Shane finds himself genuinely laughing at Ryan’s laugh. It really wasn’t that funny, but he appreciates Ryan for being cordial. “You just get here?” Ryan asks and Shane shrugs, gesturing at his jacket.

“Yeah, my Art 454 class had some homework due tonight and Sara never lets me go home early so, just a little late.” Shane looks over at the actor, who seems to have a pensive look on his face.

“How much do you know about Sara?” Ryan asks, his tone taking a different turn. Shane mentally notes that, wondering if this is the crush Sara was referring to earlier. Well, if it is, then Shane is going to do what every best friend does when someone has a crush on her: get them together. Operation Ryara is a go!

“Sara? She’s great! She’s really generous and passionate about painting. One time, she spent two days straight painting a birthday gift for a friend because she felt like it. She’ll stick her nose into your business but it’s all out of love, y’know? Never a boring day with her,” Shane says, sipping his beer to swallow how weird gushing sounds coming from him. If it’s for Sara, though… Shane really hopes he’s doing this “wingman” thing right. He glances over at Ryan who suddenly seems incredibly tense, his smile tight around the edges. Shane takes another generous sip, wondering where he’d gone wrong. He wasn’t even talking about himself…

“It sounds like you care a lot about her,” Ryan says, also taking a chug from his beer. Shane shrugs it off, figuring there definitely needs to be a topic change.

“She’s my best friend. Hey, what about you? What’re you into?” Shane asks, gesturing at Ryan with his can. The tension seems to relax from Ryan’s shoulders and the actor seems to fold into himself, shrugging.

“Oh, don’t be a shrinking violet now, Ryan. You’re our lead, tell me a little about yourself I should know. Or something I should keep in mind when I plan rehearsals,” Shane says, turning to fully face Ryan and lean against the wall. He amusedly watches Ryan fiddle with his can of beer and seem to struggle for conversation. Who knew Ryan could get so tongue tied talking to someone? Every time Shane has caught sight of him, he’s suavely chatting with anyone willing to listen.

“I live pretty far from campus, actually, and I usually take the bus back to my apartment so if you could avoid late rehearsals…” Ryan asks, voice incredibly hopeful. Shane internally winces. His pre-planned rehearsal schedule definitely stretches to some late nights, ones that other talent have been requesting due to class schedules and work… If Ryan can’t make it late nights, he’ll probably miss crucial information and on top of that, just rehearsal in general.

“I, uh… Don’t think I can really do that,” Shane says apologetically, watching Ryan wilt just a little bit.

“But! I have a car, so if you want, I can drive you on those late night rehearsals. I really wouldn’t mind,” Shane offers, already figuring out ways to get Sara to join in on this. Being a third wheel will suck but if it makes Sara happy, Shane’s more than willing to commit to being a chauffeur.

“Really?” Ryan asks, perking up again. He must be figuring out the same thing as Shane.

“Yeah, absolutely, no problem.”

They chat a bit more, Shane discovering that Ryan has a passion for film and editing just like he does. They’re studying different courses in the program though, so they definitely won’t have any classes together. Shane explains why he joined theater, explaining how he’d started out as a lead actor just like Ryan but eventually transitioned to being stage manager. He had gotten busy during one semester and was cast as a secondary character, but wound up giving the role to his understudy. It’s better than being a scene stealer when he doesn’t mean to be, so he left to become a part of stage crew.

“Yeah, Sara told me you’re amazing,” Ryan says.

“Well… Not to toot my own horn, but there’s a reason I always got lead,” Shane says, hiding a smile behind the lip of his can. Ryan seems to smile just as brightly, knocking their cans together in a silent toast.

“Alright guys! Time to draw lots!” Sara announces from the center of the living room, standing atop an ottoman to get everyone’s attention. In her hands is a dollar store Santa cap and as she rustles it, the sound of paper fills the air. Shane finishes off his beer and reluctantly pulls away from the wall to join the circle of people. Ryan follows after him, standing at his left.

One by one, Sara steps up to each person and lets them draw their recipient. Some Santas giggle at their slips and show them to the friends around them. Others keep their stoic faces on as they read the slip and tuck away into a pocket. TJ takes a slip before his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, looking around the circle before elbowing Andrew next to him. He shows him the slip and Andrew chuckles nervously as he draws his lot, looking slightly bummed at his person.

When it comes to Ryan, the actor dives his hand into the last slips of paper left over, rustling the bag for dramatic effect. Everyone laughs, including Shane, as he triumphantly holds up a folded name and makes a show of reading it in private. He must obviously not be expecting who it is, because Ryan drops the bit in seconds and straightens up, looking at Sara with dumbfounded eyes. Way to be subtle, Shane thinks, as he reaches into the bag. He picks out the last name in the hat and unfolds it.

Ryan Bergara

Oh, fuck.

“Sara can I change na--”

“Nope! You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit!” she sings and Shane is really starting to hate that tone. He can actually see TJ and Andrew switching names right behind her! He opens his mouth to protest but is silenced by the look she gives him. Alright, alright. Making it difficult for the wingman, huh?

“Who’d you get?” Shane asks Ryan when the circle starts to disperse. He looks at Shane, still in a daze of sorts, before a blush crosses both of his cheeks. Oh, now that was adorable, Ryan suddenly losing his suave nature because he got Sara.

“Wouldn’t be a Secret Santa if I told you, now would it?” Ryan asks and Shane shakes his laugh.

“She really likes watercolor,” he hints and Ryan looks confused for a second, tilting his head before laughing, shrugging at the advice. Shane shrugs back, and suddenly they’re engaged in a shrugging competition, leaving them both wheezing by the end of it. Okay, maybe Ryan isn’t who Shane initially thought he was. Maybe he’s actually an okay guy.

Maybe he can be a friend.

Shane finds himself, either reluctantly or not, being drawn to Ryan as they spend more and more time together. The man is surprisingly genuine despite being an actor and never seems to get frustrated with Shane’s personality. It’s incredibly refreshing to have someone other than Sara to be able to vent some of his feelings to… They’ve started seeing each other outside of meetings and rehearsals, Ryan inviting him to coffee sometimes. Shane presumes it’s to try and formulate a strategy to get a date with Sara, but they always get distracted with talking about themselves.

Shane can’t say he minds them getting off track, he’s learned so much about Bergara. He feels slightly guilty about this, since he’s trying to do this for Sara’s sake, but he figures she’d be grateful that her future boyfriend already gets along with her shitty best friend. During one late night rehearsal, Sara winds up needing to leave early, and Shane is the one to kick her out of the hall when he sees how pale her skin is and how glassy her eyes look. She should absolutely not be working if her art midterm has left her a corpse. Plus, what would she do during rehearsal? The sets are nearly finished and if that bothers the talent, they can do what they do best and act like they’re done.

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch, Shane keeping his comments to himself about some of the talent’s acting. Where the hell did they even find the guy to play the Ghost of Christmas Present? Shane could act better than that, and he has half the mind to get up there and outshow the guy. Still, there’s a reason he decided to stay stage manager, so he keeps his comments to himself and just makes a mental note to speak to the director after this musical has had its run.

Shane is always the last to leave rehearsals, checking to make sure everything is off and put away so no curious band geek touches it. Ryan is sitting on the stage, waiting for him as he does the same tradition every rehearsal.

“Alrighty, little guy, you ready to get out of here?” Shane asks, picking up his backpack next to Ryan. The actor puts his phone away and grins up at Shane. Something about that smile is contagious because Shane finds himself smiling right after Ryan. Actors, he thinks, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything to get home. Wallet, phone, keys… Homework.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Ryan asks, nodding at the lamp on the table by the stage. Shane looks at it before sighing, rolling his eyes.

“I always think this is a waste of electricity,” he mumbles as he jumps off the stage and picks it off the table. Ryan stares at Shane as he clambers back onto the stage and pulls open a hidden outlet from the wood, plugging the lamp into it. It blinks alive, bathing the two of them in a golden light. Ryan has dramatic shadows on his face, giving him the ethereal glow that indie movies crave. Shane can’t help but appreciate how handsome he looks in this light… He would give almost anything to take a picture of his face and write an entire movie around it.

Wait, he’s wingman.

“Well, if we don’t, the ghosts are gonna wreck the props and set so it’s not really a waste of electricity,” Ryan says before sliding off the stage himself. Shane follows after him and they start to wander out of the hall.

“Ghosts aren’t real, Bergara. We only turn it on because some idiots can’t see in the dark,” Shane quips. He doesn’t realize Ryan has stopped walking until he turns to ask if he’s hungry, finding the little guy gone.

“You don’t believe in ghosts?” Ryan asks, a few paces behind Shane. Shane gives him a bewildered look, shaking his head furiously. “No! They’re not real, all the ‘evidence’ people present is so obviously doctored,” Shane remarks and Ryan throws his hands up into the air.

“Of course you’d say that. You and all other skeptics say the some stuff. You guys want your evidence so badly but the second we show you guys anything, ‘oh that’s fake,’” Ryan fires back, distorting his voice to mock skeptics. Shane finds it rather funny, chuckling as he pulls out his phone to check on Sara.

[9:56pm] Shane: Your boyfriend thinks ghosts are real. Sara, come get your mans.

“All I’m saying is that every time something ‘happens’, it’s always in the other room, or your audio doesn’t pick it up,” Shane returns and keeps on walking out of the hall. He hears Ryan sputter in indignation before trotting after him, those little legs struggling to catch up. Shane smiles smugly at the thought.

“Ghosts don’t have that much energy! There’s so much evidence that ghosts are real. There’s eyewitness accounts, there’s EVP, readings, multiple people with no connection to one another experiencing the same apparition. There’s full body apparitions too!” Ryan rattles on, animatedly throwing his hands into the air as he mimics each type of evidence. Shane watches him out of the corner of his eye as he locks up the hall. This Ryan is much better than shy boy Ryan. Don’t get him wrong, shy Ryan was cool for the first two days of meeting him, but Shane much rather prefers this Ryan. Y’know, the one who loves talking with his entire body and makes a face if you say something stupid. That Ryan is way cooler than shy boy Ryan.

“Next you’re gonna tell me you don’t believe in aliens,” Ryan finishes after working himself into a huff. Shane straightens up and pockets his keys, shrugging.

“Oh my God!” Ryan shouts and Shane feels himself laugh harder than he has since freshman year. He almost doesn’t want to drive Ryan home, just because he’d love to hear what conspiracy theories Ryan has stored in that noggin of his… Would it be wrong of a wingman to eat with his best friend’s romantic interest? Is that a violation of wingman rules?

They’ve made it to the parking garage Shane’s in before he decides fuck it. They’re buckling their seat belts in Shane’s old Honda when Shane suddenly puts his hands on his lap, stopping Ryan mid-rant.

“I’m hungry. Wanna go to Golden Flower?” he asks, turning to look at Ryan with a genuine smile. The actor looks at him with a look before laughing, rubbing some stress from his eyes.

“Only if you admit ghosts are real,” he says and Shane shrugs as he starts up the car, backing out of his spot.

“Guess we’re never going to Golden Flower…”

“You dick!”

At the restaurant, Shane orders his usual of fried rice and Ryan grabs some pho, which tips Shane off that Ryan’s never been to Golden Flower. Rule number one: never get pho at Golden Flower. Get anything but the pho.

“So as I was saying, you have to admit it’s pretty weird an entire town with 66 people can’t figure out who killed off four people in a family,” Ryan says and Shane nods.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna say the police may have been in a cover up, but there was definitely a cover up,” Shane says and Ryan wheezes, slouching against the seat.

“So, what’re you getting your Secret Santa?” Ryan asks and Shane shrugs, picturing the small bottle of cologne he’s planning to give Ryan. Sara had said it’d been her favorite from the shop they were in, so Shane figures it’d be a nice coincidence if Ryan started wearing it. Best wingman of all time? Yes, that would be Shane.

“Wouldn’t be a Secret Santa now would it?” Shane reminds Ryan and he chuckles.

“Is it gonna be expensive?” Ryan asks and to that Shane makes a face.

“No, no of course not. You only get expensive presents if you like the person,” Shane says and he sees Ryan blush across both cheeks, suddenly sitting up much more proper. Oh, he must’ve gotten something really nice for Sara… Maybe a piece of jewelry? Wouldn't that be a bit too forward? Maybe it’s that watercolor set Shane had pointed out to Ryan at Target the other week.

“You’re telling me,” Ryan says and Shane chuckles, happy to see their waitress coming with their food.

He watches eagerly as Ryan takes a sip of his pho and makes a face.

“Rule number one: don’t get Golden Flower pho.”

“I thought they might’ve gotten better at it!”

“Yeah yeah, want some of my fried rice? There’s a lot here.”

“Thanks, big guy.”

“No problem, little guy.”

It’s been a hectic opening week, with Shane dealing with the stress of midterms and making sure production ran as smoothly as possible. Two people have lost parts of their costume, half of light crew is down with some flu, and to top it all off, Sara had texted him in the morning:

[7:36 am] Sara: He’s not interested in me you dingus.

So now Shane has a bottle of cologne he basically wasted money on and a really confused brain, which results in some sloppy stage manager decisions. It’s okay, the Secret Santa reveals are tonight and everything will finally be over. No more of this wingman act. Shane can just be Ryan’s friend now. Hopefully.

“Shane?”

The stage manager zooms around, face tight with stress as he glares at whoever dared to call him. Ryan stands in his Scrooge costume and looks at him, tilting his head with a smile. Shane sighs and rubs his eyes with two fingers, turning away from Ryan and pretending to busy himself with another checklist. Deja vu.

“Shane, hey.” Ryan steps closer to him and Shane starts to emit his “fuck off” vibes, the ones that scare everyone else off so he can finally focus on one thing at time. However, Ryan Bergara seems impervious to them as he saddles right up to Shane’s side and nudges his side with an elbow.

“Shane, it’s all going to be okay. We know this show, light crew already figured out how to do everything… It’s going to work out fine,” Ryan murmurs and Shane feels a hand on his back, rubbing what he thinks are supposed to be soothing circles. Shane sighs and wants to push Ryan away, but those soothing circles are working for the first time ever. He indulges in them for a second, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath.

Ryan is right. If he keeps worrying over every little detail, he’s going to stress himself out and wind up making even more bad calls. Everything feels so tight in his body but as Ryan keeps rubbing those circles, Shane feels himself relax more and more, until his body feels like it’s grounded again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Shane murmurs and throws an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “You guys got this.”

“Cheers!! Good job with today’s show!” Sara calls to the crew in her living room once again. Shane happily cheers back to her, raising his glass of proper liquor this time. Ryan is sitting right next to him on the couch, talking to his fellow actors and accepting their praise. Shane loves seeing how at home he is when he’s just talking to other people, and he supposes that’s part of the reason why Ryan tolerates Shane. He can turn any conversation topic they choose into something they both love to talk about.

“Alright guys, time to exchange presents! I’ll go first! Kristin, I got you!” Sara says, holding up a reindeer gift wrap present. The actress in question giggles with excitement as she tears into the gift, showing off the mini make-up brush set Sara got her. Shane sinks into the couch, his little gift bag sitting next to him. He figures that even if Ryan doesn’t like Sara, he’ll still like the present Shane got. A little cologne never hurt anyone.

“Ryan, it’s your turn!” Sara calls, her smile a bit more mischievious than before. Shane smirks at her before looking at Ryan, surprised to find a cardboard tube pointing at him. He stares at it for a couple more seconds until he realizes what Ryan is saying with it. “Oh! For me?” Shane says, pulling his hands out of his pockets to accept the tube. Hot damn, he’s been wrong the entire time! Ryan had been his Secret Santa the entire time, oh this’ll be funny to reveal.

“I wonder what it is,” Shane muses as he pops open one end of it. There’s a poster in there and Shane has to fish it out with his fingers, pulling it out and unrolling it the best he can.

What he sees has his jaw hitting the floor. In his hands is an original Broadway poster of Heathers, one of his favorite musicals of all time. There are Sharpie scribbles of the original cast members’ signatures, going from Barret Wilbert Weed to Jessica Wynn to his personal favorite, Ryan McCartan. Holy shit!

“Ryan, this is such a thoughtful gift! You must’ve spent a fortune on it!” Shane says, turning to Ryan with a huge smile. The actor is clutching his glass tightly with a shy smile on his face, shrugging when he meets Shane’s eyes. A rosy blush is spreading across his face and up to his ears, and Shane isn’t sure if that’s just the alcohol talking. Ryan sure loves to blush around him.

You only get expensive presents if you like the person.

Oh.

Shane stares at Ryan in a different light, turning to look at the gorgeous poster in his hands, and then back to Ryan. Oh, holy shit. Everything clicks together in a sudden rush that leaves Shane’s stomach doing backflips. Ryan talking to Shane that one day, Ryan asking Shane how well he knows Sara, Ryan getting tense every time he brings her up in conversation, Ryan starting to hang with Shane despite Sara not being around.

He’s a damn fool. Ryan isn’t into Sara at all.

Ryan’s been into Shane this whole time.

Shane then thinks of the cologne at his side and feels a seed of regret sprouting in his stomach. He… really really wants to get Ryan an expensive gift now, but it’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it?

“Well, thanks buddy,” Shane says, his voice a bit less excited than before. He quickly rolls up the poster and eases it back into the tube, corking it with the stopper.

“This is kinda funny because I got you, buddy!” Shane says, handing the gift bag over to Ryan. The actor laughs and quickly plows through the tissue paper, pulling out the box of cologne. Shane can feel Sara’s eyes on him as Ryan looks over the cologne. Yeah, Shane wants to know what the hell he’s doing too, Sara. He really does.

Ryan’s face looks happy and excited, but Shane has been around him enough to know when he’s acting. The gift may or may not be a bust and Shane internally sighs again, kicking himself in the shin. Fuck, he should’ve just… He should just… Goddammit.

“I love it Shane, but are you trying to tell me I smell bad?” Ryan asks and everyone around them bursts into a laugh as Shane quickly shoots that idea down.

“No! No, absolutely not. I just thought it smelled nice and you might like it,” Shane murmurs, his excuse as shitty as his present. Great, now he feels like a fucking idiot that definitely doesn’t deserve to be Ryan’s crush. God, why would he ever be? Ryan’s charismatic, he’s funny… He’s everything Shane wishes he was…

“Oh, well, either way thanks big guy. I love it.”

Shane is really starting to hate how tight Ryan’s smile is.

“What the fuck do you mean the actor and the understudy are out?” Shane hisses to the stagehand who just informed him that the Ghost of Christmas Present will not be in the musical tonight. He glowers at her before turning away, pulling his headset off of his ears. God fucking dammit, this week has been a disaster. After the Secret Santa, Ryan had gone home by himself and their friendship has been tense. They haven’t hung out since then, with Shane finishing up his midterms and Ryan probably avoiding him now. He does not need an actor going AWOL on him.

“T-They just called and said no, Shane. I’m sorry,” she says and Shane can hear the tears in her voice. He grits his teeth and turns to her but Sara once again materializes out of thin air, taking the girl in her arms and ushering her away. The look in her eyes says for Shane to stay right there until she comes back, which he does.

When Sara returns, Shane has taken a few deep breaths and found a seat, his head in his hands. His headset is in the seat next to him, and he can feel Sara resting her hand on his back.

“Please don’t. I can’t right now,” he says when he feels her start to rub circles. She retreats before crouching down in front of him.

“Hey…” she says but Shane can tell she doesn’t know what to say. Their final night and this musical has to go down in flames? God fucking dammit.

“Shane?” Sara calls and he finally looks up at her with his tired eyes. She gives him a small smile.

“I can think of a way to save this musical, and maybe work out that present you gave Ryan.”

Shane doesn’t hesitate.

“How?”

Ryan hasn’t been avoiding Shane per se… He’s just been trying to stomp his crush to death before he sees the big guy again. It’s not Shane’s fault he doesn’t reciprocate, and it’s not Ryan’s fault either, but he figures it’d be a bit awkward to talk to someone you’ve figured out has a crush on you.

Speaking of the guy, he hasn’t seen Shane all night, which is weird since Shane’s got such a need to supervise a lot of things happening for the musical. Still, as Scrooge, Ryan still has to go on stage and perform for closing night. He just wishes he could’ve seen Shane before going on stage.

It’s the second act of the musical and Scrooge is about to meet the Ghost of Christmas Present, the actor of which he hasn’t seen at all either. Ryan is singing about his lament for the events of the past but that’s not what he can change now, how it’s all out of his hands. Just like this stupid crush on Shane.

Suddenly, a figure enters stage right and Shane almost breaks character when he sees Shane in the costume for the ghost. Dressed in the period clothing of the time, Shane has soot on his cheeks and hits just the right note to start the song between the two of them. He’s… magical on stage. Ryan is frozen where he stands as Shane explains the poverty and hardship the town faces during Christmas, addressing the family of Ryan’s sole employee. It’s only muscle memory that Ryan recalls his cues, singing along with Shane as they wander from window to window, family to family.

Good God, this crush will never die now. Sara had told Ryan that Shane used to act, used to sing, but he had left it all behind to become stage manager. Now, Ryan understands truly how talented Shane is. His voice is a caress of sound against Ryan’s ears and his expressions come as natural as breathing to him. If Shane is meant to be a secondary character, he’s managed to transform the Ghost of Christmas Present into the protagonist.

As their musical number together ends, Ryan is sure his hesitation is obvious on his face. He can’t help but want to sing with Shane again, to reach out and take his hand and beg for another duet together. In fact, his hand is already out, just barely catching the edge of Shane’s costume. The man turns around and smiles at Ryan so softly that Ryan almost thinks Shane might like him back.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers and Ryan’s heart breaks at the sound of it. It was genuine, he thinks. This is the second part of Shane’s gift and it’s blown Ryan right out of the skies. This is hopeless now, he’ll forever be in love with this stupid titan man and there’s nothing he can do about it now. Ryan’s heart belongs to Shane, whether the man wants it or not.

“Merry Christmas,” Ryan says through his tears as Shane exits stage left. The audience gives a round of applause, the sound thundering throughout the hall they’re performing in. Ryan has to wait a second before continuing the musical, extremely surprised the performance moved the audience to break musical etiquette.

As the musical ends, and the curtain falls, Ryan feels his heart finally relax from the duet with Shane. The music for curtain call starts up and Ryan perks up from his spot in the wings, throwing on his performer smile before looking to his right. His smile slips when he sees Shane still in costume, smiling down at him like he’s been in love with Ryan this whole time. If only.

“How’d you like the second half of your present?” Shane asks as the curtain rises. Ryan doesn’t have time to answer as everyone heads out to the stage for their bows. He’s standing right next to Shane the whole time, joining their hands together as the entire cast takes their final bow as their characters. Ryan feels his eyes tearing up as all of the hardwork and dedication he’d put into his role, and everyone else’s love and passion, come to one final bow.

He turns to look at Shane, who hasn’t let go of his hand the entire time. Shane silently takes Ryan’s other hand and Ryan’s heart stops there, his breath hitching as Shane’s eyes meet his. He feels Shane’s hands let go of his and travel up his arm before cupping his face.

“Yes,” Ryan whispers before standing on his tip toes, crashing their lips together before Shane can. Fireworks fly in Ryan’s head as Shane’s hands hold his jaw in place, their kiss almost drowned out by the dancing figures and uproar of applause around them.

“Merry Christmas,” Shane whispers and Ryan can feel his smile against his lips.