an inside thing (don’t worry about it)

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“you have the worst birthday,” dylan tells tyler.

“the worst one,” tyler says.

“no question,” dylan says. “you know, nothing makes you really wanna celebrate like september 11.”

“if we stay in, the terrorists win?” tyler suggests. dylan laughs.

“yup, just my annual september 11 celebration,” dylan says. “what’s that? no, no, you didn’t mishear. i’m getting my dude a gift, we’re having dinner, just, even more offensive than thanksgiving.”

“everything’s offensive,” tyler says.

“uh oh,” dylan says. “is that a blanket judgment? tricky territory. wouldn’t wanna get misquoted, now.”

“shut up,” tyler says, kind of pushing at his side. holding on, though, bringing him back with a hand on his waist.

“boyfriend pose, nice,” dylan says.

“what?” tyler says.

“no, it’s funny,” dylan says. “i’m the girl. girl pose.”

“you’re not the girl,” tyler says. rolling his eyes, shaking his head a little. “that’s not… obviously.”

“it’s a joke!” dylan says. “just, like, reflexive. no deeper meaning.”

“i just,” tyler says. “i’ve never seen you like that.”

“it’s not, like, a major…” dylan says, and groans, and throws his head back in a laugh for a second. “oh my god,” he says. “no, it’s not… so what if i even am the girl? girls are awesome.”

he swivels his hips, kind of puffs out his lips for a second before he reigns himself in. “wait, was that, like, incredibly sexist?”

“you’re asking me?” tyler says.

“i don’t know,” dylan says. “i don’t know, i don’t know anything. god, wouldn’t this be a great hit piece?”

“well we started the night celebrating an atrocity,” tyler says. “i’d say anything after that has to be an improvement.”

“weird,” dylan says, looking at tyler really seriously. looping an arm around his shoulders. “we’re both so weird.”

“so weird,” tyler says fondly.

“i don’t know about… wine,” dylan sings, “but you’re turning twenty-nine! and you’re like, grossly attractive, so fucking superfine!”

“taylor swift, really,” tyler says, eyebrows high. it’s a struggle not to burst out laughing.

“um,” dylan says, thinking. “you don’t know about… food,” he goes on. “‘cause all the food you eat is mine… no, no, i don’t know,” he says, falling down snickering.

“i do love your food,” tyler says, catching him, and dylan says, “porn voice. innuendo, everything you say is filth.”

“what?” tyler says, laughing.

“my name is, bro,” dylan decides. back to top 40, okay. “my number is, bro. my sign is bro. you know what me and tyler are called?” he asks. “like, we’re, you and me, we’re hobrien. me and him, we’re o'brosey. like, bros forever.”

“o'brien, posey,” tyler figures, nods.

“but then, but then,” dylan says excitedly, “me him and you, we’re ho'brosey. get it? you’re, you’re the ho before our bros.”

“my name is, ho,” tyler says agreeably. it’s that kind of night. dylan gapes at him, swoops in and kisses him.

“you are my favorite,” he says, a little breathlessly.

“what,” tyler says. his ears are stained pink, he can feel it, but he can still feel dylan’s mouth on his, so it’s hard for anything else to matter.

it’s a little bit… tyler’s gonna have nightmares, for a while. 

dylan, in his car, when. 

even as he wakes up next to him. and chokes on relief, and his eyes burn. 

he should’ve kept in touch. he should’ve asked, Where are you living now? 

Please tell me you’re not sleeping in your car. 

they could’ve evacuated together. still panicked, still grieving. 

but it wouldn’t feel this bad. 

or maybe it would. if all of dylan’s stuff was there, already.

if they didn’t have anything to compare it to. 

he’s just glad, at the end of the day, that it could’ve been a lot worse. that the worst didn't happen.

that the worst part of it is dealing with paperwork, and a couple of bad dreams. 

“it’s so meta,” dylan says. “for like, the show we were on?”

“what?” tyler says, and then he realizes. things on fire, yeah. 

especially for him. 

“real-life derek hale,” dylan says, and then looks horrified. “except, just the house.  thank god.” 

yeah. yeah. 

“and it wasn’t set,” tyler says. “intentionally.” 

“to hunt werewolves,” dylan says, and tyler nods. 

“at least, that we know of.” 

they sit with that thought for a while. then dylan laughs. 

“i really just took that thought so seriously.” 

imagining it, yeah. that reality, that reason. 

finding out about that, now. 

“and jeff’s just, like, psychic,” dylan says. “or a werewolf himself.” 

it’s half a story. it’s a distraction, at least. 

“you were kind of the 2010s Smokey The Bear, if you think about it.” 

it’s kind of funny. and funnier, because everything dylan says is. 

at least, when he means to be. 

“you wanna hear something really funny?” dylan says. “i want a cigarette so bad. wait, that’s not even… and the smoke is, like, worsening it.”

smelling like it, or curling in similar ways. maybe. 

“if there was ever a good time to quit!” dylan says, and laughs. “when the world’s, like, actively burning around me.”

but that’s when you need it most, maybe.

“yeah,” dylan says, but he shakes his head. “i’ll be strong, i’ll be…” grinning, again. “my fucking new year’s resolution. starting yesterday.” 

maybe he had cigarettes in his car. and tyler shouldn’t have said that. he knows immediately. 

dylan says, “oh my god.” 

and now he thinks he’s responsible. for it getting worse, for it spreading. 

providing fuel for it. 

tyler really shouldn’t have said that. but it’s too late, now. 

he just holds dylan. tries to distract him, kisses his cheek. 

grins, and raises his eyebrows a little. 

“don’t think i don’t see right through you,” dylan says, and tyler says, “you could see more.”

it’s too long before tyler finds out about dylan’s car. why he’s not still in his car, now. 

“your car was there?” tyler says, and dylan’s eyes fill with tears again. and by now it’s second nature, tyler moving closer. dylan folding into him. 

and tyler can’t even imagine. or he can, too well. 

if dylan was still sleeping in it, when… 

he takes a long breath, tries not to think at all. 

dylan’s here now. he’s here now, he’s alive. 

the car’s the worst of it. 

and dylan’s stunned, when he hears about where tyler was living. about the house, which just feels like a distant memory by now.

“oh my god,” dylan says. “i’m so fucking sorry.” 

it feels like nothing now. nothing, nothing. 

with dylan alive, and close to him.

he lost his passport. whatever ID he didn’t have in his wallet. 

“we’ll figure it out,” tyler says. “i’ll help you.”

“god,” dylan says, and tears soak into tyler’s shirt. “you’re the fucking nicest guy in the world.”

no. the nicest? no. 

he would’ve found dylan a long time ago.

“we were gonna sell the house,” dylan says. “and like, split the… split the earnings from it.” 

because they couldn’t live together anymore. it wasn’t healthy. 

but dylan couldn’t just throw him out. 

and it felt like an adventure to him, in the beginning. or like method acting. 

being a real fucking person again. 

“just roleplaying, like, homelessness,” dylan says. “poverty-core, oh my god. so yeah, i kind of brought this on myself.” for a second, he’s laughing. “i like, manifested it. self-fulfilling prophecy.”

but it wasn’t about acting, or whatever joke dylan feels like he has to make about it. it’s always gonna be hard, ending a long-term relationship. even if it’s totally amicable, it can still make you spin out a little bit sometimes. at least while you try to figure what normal even looks like without them.

and if you live together, it’s a million times more complicated.

and dylan sniffs. “yeah.” 

it doesn’t make sense, not holding him.

“it was the luck of my life, running into you,” dylan says. “seriously, i…”

his voice just keeps getting softer. back to how he was, how they used to be.

tyler kisses him again.

traces dylan’s cheek, and his jaw, and dylan says, “i can help you too, you know? with like… all the insurance things.” 

insurance claims, yeah.

but of course, the house never had fire insurance. 

dylan’s eyes widening. “what? no way.”

it is starting to get funnier. 

where are you from, tyler? wildfires happen every year. 

why did you think that it was so affordable?

in hindsight, everything is obvious. and always is, and will be. 

when it’s over, and all you can do is learn from your mistakes.

“you can live with me,” dylan says. tyler looks at him. “if my house makes it. or… wherever i end up next.”

“we’ll stay together,” tyler says, and he means it in more ways than one. and dylan says, “yeah.” 

it doesn’t matter what it looks like. maybe they’ll go back to sharing an apartment.

home is where the heart is, right? that kind of thing.

dylan’s ex still lives in the house. he makes a face and says, “long story.”

but then, “no, he’s not a bad guy.”

which, that’s not entirely surprising. 

“Very Special Episode incoming,” dylan says, and tyler says, “no, it’s not.”

“very boring episode,” dylan says. “‘haven’t we done this to death? in the seventies?’”

they, yeah. tyler nods. 

“liam,” dylan says. “and you know the saddest part? i lost my dog. because we co-adopted him, you know?”

and the one living in his car doesn’t really… tyler takes a breath. 

“charlie,” dylan says. “cutest little guy in the world. or not that little, anymore, but he still thinks he is.” 

he’s getting shakier again. 

“i’m just gonna… make sure they’re okay.” 

“of course,” tyler says. 

dylan’s on edge, then, the five minutes before his texts get read. before his phone buzzes, and his face fills with relief. 

“they’re evacuating, they’re gonna stay with his mom,” he says, and then, “in ohio.” 

something in his face dropping, when he says that, in ohio. tyler touches his arm. 

puts an arm around him again. 

“this is getting so normal,” dylan says, and tyler shrugs.

“as long as you don’t mind.”

“if i don’t mind?” dylan says. looking at him incredulously. “you’re the best fucking thing that’s happened to me in like, years.”

it feels too good, hearing that. and too awful, at the same time. 

and tyler says, “i wish things would’ve been better for you.”

it comes out awkward. already, he’s back to tongue-tied. he’s too aware of everything. 

everything that was numb, before. 

but dylan says, “i really wish i would’ve stayed in touch with you. i feel like… that would’ve fixed my whole life.”

it’s a familiar feeling. “well, we have now, at least.”

and dylan nods. 

tyler means to wait to kiss him. he really means to.

but instead, he moves forward. 

thankfully, thankfully dylan’s expecting it. and kisses him back, and pulls him close. 

laughs a little, against his collar. “i feel high right now.” 

tyler kisses him again. 

“world’s best-kept secret,” dylan says. “you being bi.”

tyler laughs. “is it?”

dylan shrugs. 

he tastes like cigarettes and sugar. an energy drink, maybe.

dylan nods, impressed. “nailed it.” 

maybe that’s for the best. because of how… the water’s contaminated. 

dylan nodding. “nestle’s having the time of their lives.” 

but they should get water. it won’t be healthy, long term, avoiding it. 

“maybe we’re far away from it now,” dylan says, and takes a few minutes, checks the advisories. “nope! i guess not.”

they could go somewhere further away. they could… take dylan’s car, or tyler’s. 

go anywhere. 

“roadtrip?” dylan says, and tyler shrugs, but dylan shakes his head. “normally? i’d probably be so on board. with you? but i kind of want to sleep forever.” 

they’ll sleep, then. get their bearings back, for a while. 

figure out where to go next after that. 

“yeah?” dylan says, and tyler kisses him again. “straight to the same bed. comfy.” 

“unless you wanna wait,” tyler says, and dylan says, “no way in hell.” 

“silver fox era,” dylan says, touching tyler’s jaw. “i like it.” 

“i figured i might as well embrace it,” tyler says, and dylan strokes at his beard some more. 

“so distinguished.” 

tyler laughs against his fingers. dips his head, kisses them. dylan’s jaw dropping, eyes widening, and he draws tyler in closer. 

it’s so, so good to be this close again. 

liam texts dylan a picture of charlie in the car. another one at his mom’s house, when they get there safe. 

dylan just touches charlie on his screen for a while. kind of stroking the glass, and kind of laughing. “this is so sad.”

but tyler’s arm is already wrapping back around him. 

dylan dips in against it, for a second, and tyler says, “i’m sorry.”

“at least they’re safe,” dylan says. “it could’ve been… so bad.” 

he’s trying not to look up where the house is. to find pictures of that, specifically.

find out it’s unrecoverable. 

there’s already so many gofundmes. like, just from people that dylan’s worked with. whose whole houses are just, gone. who still have kids, and families. 

his favorite ramen place burned down. is like, unrecognizable. the fucking shelter they found charlie in barely made it. 

and the air quality’s so bad there, they’re still shutting down. 

they’re just trying to place all the animals first. 

“we should go,” tyler says. “rescue something. one of them.”

dylan can’t believe how long he went, not knowing him. 

it’s too early to say what he wants to say. but he’s already, like, choking on it. feeling it coming. 

and then he’s kind of chuckling. he can make anything have double meanings. 

not even meaning to. 

he wants charlie. but it’ll feel good, protecting another buddy. 

he already feels so much better than before. 

there’s a puppy who looks like charlie’s brother. the same curly brown fur, and there’s no way dylan can leave him. 

but he wants to rescue all of them. all of them, he’s gonna cry. 

charlie’s brother’s name is bono. a big U2 fan, maybe. 

“or maybe it’s bone-oh,” tyler says. kind of chewing on his cheek, eyebrows on the rise, trying to keep up the straight face. “that might be… a little more appropriate.” 

terrible. terrible, it’s the worst joke dylan’s ever heard. 

he really does love him. 

dylan calls him lil b. it just comes out, half a joke, and then it sticks forever. 

lil b, or just b. bono’s such a mouthful. 

bee’s a baby. 

dylan’s way too attached, immediately. and tyler buys bee a bright green stuffed frog. bono chews it fondly all the way back to the hotel, the frog squeaking, dylan grinning at him. 

they bought a crate, and food, and supplies. dylan didn’t have any of it on him, without charlie. 

but b’s so sweet, tyler just lets him pad up to him. nose his way into tyler’s hand, look up at him curiously. 

he says, “i didn’t even know their fur could be curly like that.” 

and dylan read something once, about foxes. how curly tails correspond to friendliness. 

but maybe that’s just unrelated. 

bono’s pretty much a therapy dog. an unlicensed expert calmer. in a second, both of them are already feeling better. just trading off on holding him, or playing together. 

tyler just calls him bono. or banh-o. like banh mi. 

“why, how do you say it?” tyler says, and dylan doesn’t even know. 

doesn’t even… bono. looking up at tyler, grinning. 

wildfire au. in which tyler’s just gonna shoot himself in the head. because the joke’s on him, and isn’t it always?

he didn't wanna deal with a mortgage. wanted to pay it off at once, that's what he was fucking waiting for.

pissing in the wind, is that the expression? yeah. he might as well have done that. 

but really, he should be grateful. 

he wasn’t home when his house burned down. 

he gets a hotel room. he’s not—he can’t explain himself to anyone, his thoughts, he needs to be alone. 

except that half of southern california clearly had the same idea as him. 

“tyler? oh my god,” dylan o’brien says to him in the elevator. “small… small world.” 

he looks exhausted. and miserable, and he’s kind of shaking. 

but it’s always good to see dylan. 

“you… which fire?” tyler says, and then, “sorry.” 

“it’s kind of funny, actually,” dylan says. “especially in hindsight, oh my god. but uh, i’ve kind of been… crashin’ in my car for a while. as in sleeping,” he adds immediately. “not, like, the more literal… no, nonono. more in the sense of like, crashing on someone’s couch. but, you know, car-shaped. packed full of my stuff, drivable...”

and tyler knows that things can get bad. it’s never a stable job, acting.

but, dylan? 

it doesn’t make sense, with dylan. 

but if he is joking, he’s gotten a lot better at keeping a straight face.

“how long…” tyler says, and then, “i could’ve… are you serious? dylan.”

too quick, his head is spinning.

and dylan is kind of laughing now. but not really.

“it gets funnier,” he says. “now? it’s like, the funniest… that my house felt way too big to breathe in, i don’t know. like, too cold.” 

in that jokey tone he used to do, but he’s shaking even harder now. he swipes at his eyes. 

“nothing really changes, huh?” he says. “i’m still crying in front of you. but uh, it’s been really good to see you. before that, anyway.” 

he’s trying not to cry. or make a sound, at least, and tyler feels sicker than he has in a long time. 

he puts an arm around him. and another, and dylan shudders. 

“god,” he says. “you’re still so sweet.”

maybe. it mostly feels like that part of him’s—calcified. like mostly, he’s too old to care anymore. 

just keep to yourself, keep your head down. climb the ladder, and do your job, and you can buy your fucking house at the end of the day.

yeah, life’s funny. 

“you can stay with me,” he says. “here, i mean. if you don’t have a room.” 

dylan shuddering again. sniffling, and covering his eyes. 

tyler says, “it’s been too fucking long since we knew each other.”

“yeah,” dylan says, and nods, and nods. “oh my god. i’m such a mess right now.”

“it’ll be easier,” tyler says. “when we’re—not alone.”

helping dylan with his bag, and hooking his arm around him again. 

already feeling warmer than he thought he could feel anymore. 

he does have a room. tyler should’ve known, it’s not the main elevator. the one just going inside. 

but dylan says, “is that crazy? if i like, just crash with you, instead.” 

“it’s not crazy,” tyler says, and dylan says, “i should’ve kept in touch with you.”

yeah, maybe. tyler says, “i should’ve tried harder.”

or made time to have a life at all, in four years. that might’ve been helpful. 

“i’ll pay my way, obviously,” dylan says, and tyler says, “you don’t have to do that.”

“you’re getting less room, with me there,” dylan says. “like, per… room.” 

there’s no one like dylan. tyler’s already laughing. shaking his head. 

“it’s a pleasure,” he says. “having you here. trust me.”

“so many innuendos,” dylan says. “there are so many i could make. pleasure… having me?” 

and tyler’s face goes hot. but somehow he can’t stop smiling.