Chapter Text
I wish I knew,
I wish I knew you wanted me.
I wish I knew,
I wish I knew you wanted me.
what you, what you do?
made a move, coulda made a move,
if I knew I'd be with you,
is it too late to pursue?
I bite my tongue, it's a bad habit,
kinda mad that I didn't take a stab at it,
thought you were too good for me, my dear,
never gave me time of day, my dear,
it's okay, things happen for reasons that I think are sure.
— Bad Habit, by Steve Lacy
✰✰✰
“Hey, has anyone seen Ryan?” Kaitlyn asked, voice clear, sharp and collected, cutting rudely through Dylan’s calm and slightly hazy thoughts, that involved Abi and Nick’s incredibly awkward flirting that he’d had to get Nick to initiate.
God, it had almost been painful to watch, the pair of them were clueless as hell toward each other’s affections, but were just stumbling around the main goal in such an obvious way it was too sad to even be considered funny.
Didn’t stop Dylan from having exchanged a smirk with Jacob at their actions.
There had been the usual awkward pause of everyone not knowing what to say next, so Dylan lapsed into thought. He inwardly betted that next year would come on rolling by and when they all (hopefully) came back, neither Abi or Nick would have even made a move.
Dylan turned to Kaitlyn, shrugging, trying to direct his thoughts to reality, “Oh yeah, he’s probably off being all brooding and mysterious and alluring somewhere.”
“I’m here.”
Dylan mentally cursed and turned around to see Ryan stood in front of the lodge, looking vaguely bored as always, looking at him. A hint of a smile was on his face, and Dylan (although any reaction he could pull from the guy made his stomach flip) wished Ryan would actually smile properly, just so he he could see the other boys face light up.
“What were you doing under there?” Kaitlyn asks curiously, “Having a little ‘me’ party?”
Her tone was vaguely mean, and not in a teasing way, but she might’ve meant it to sound as if it was.
Dylan didn’t know why she flirted like that — as far as he knows, she’s into Ryan — but for all he knows, maybe it works.
“Uh… I was listening to a podcast, actually,” Ryan replied, and Dylan fought to keep a smile off of his face.
The irrepressible need to smile is something that happens around Ryan a lot, whether it’s just his sheer presence or his voice, Dylan couldn’t tell. He can’t even remember when it started happening.
He didn’t know Ryan listened to Podcasts and it just reminds him of how much he wants to know him, maybe even more than he knows himself, to a point where their brains are interlinked in some sense.
In a sort of effort to make the need to grin go away, he said, “Oh. Podcast. Nice, that’s cool.”
He sounds like a nervous wreck and he’s nodding the whole time to try and distract someone, anyone from his unsure tone.
Because that’s not very ‘the sarcastic Dylan they’ve known all summer’ of him.
Everyone was silent for a moment.
“What’s it about?” Kaitlyn asked, ending the awkward pause.
The stupidly confident, outgoing, seriously ridiculous Dylan made a majestic return with the poetic line, “Yeah, what’s it about? Is it about me?”
To anyone else, he was being painfully obvious about his attraction. To Ryan, it was more like a shot in the dark that flew past and maybe, if Dylan’s lucky, he’d catch a hint.
He clearly hadn’t all summer, despite Dylan being blatantly obvious over the last month by obnoxiously flirting with Ryan.
Ryan just… brushed it off and smiled, never taking Dylan’s words to heart, or dropping a comment back that would leave Dylan flushing and startled.
Dylan, meanwhile, knew he’s very clearly pining for the guy to anyone else.
Hopefully to none of the kids.
Or Mr H.
“You think I was listening to a Podcast…” Ryan began, his voice betraying nothing, torturously slowly, “…about you?”
Dylan’s pretty sure Ryan wouldn’t guess this crush even if he made out with the guy.
“Okay,” Kaitlyn began, forcing everyone’s eyes upon her, so they can all see her holding her hands out in mocking surrender, “if anyone here has a podcast about them, it’d be me.”
The moments-before inward battle Dylan was having about Kaitlyn forced the hand in his mind, saying, “Sure, if there was a podcast on how to look and smell like a butt.”
“Oh my god,” Kaitlyn’s hands fell to her hips as she regarded Dylan with an exasperated look (if he was honest with himself, Dylan probably would’ve looked that exasperated if that was said to him.), “you are so childish.”
“Well at least I don’t look and smell like a butt.”
This pulls a chuckle from Ryan, and Dylan looks at him in an instant, warmth spreading through him at the look on Ryan’s face and the sound that Dylan got him to make.
“No,” Ryan started, still smiling, “it’s— it’s a paranormal podcast. This episode was actually about this place, weirdly enough.”
Although Dylan’s eyes remained steadfastly on Ryan, he picks up on how the others have all grown suddenly interested at those last words, and if he’s honest, he wants to know himself.
Ryan speaks again, finishing and giving a quick bit of context, “The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry.”
Dylan felt a grin spread across his face, and he didn’t hide it this time, recalling when Ryan told this rather gripping tale to the kids for the first time. Dylan happened to be passing and got very intrigued very quickly. He’d sat down and was held spellbound by Ryan’s words with the kids at the sinister tale, watching as they all grew steadily more petrified.
He kind of wished the same effect on his fellow counsellors (or ex counsellors).
“The who of what-sit where now?” Kaitlyn asked, perplexed, and Dylan grinned properly.
Ryan caught his eye and grinned back, and Dylan repressed the urge to smile wider, and instead turned back to Kaitlyn, putting on a mock-disbelieving voice, “You haven’t heard about the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry?”
“Uh, if I did, would I be asking, dumbass?” Kaitlyn replied sharply, raising an eyebrow.
Dylan turned back to Ryan with a smirk, knowing that the repetition of the saying is probably going to annoy Kaitlyn, and to be honest, her frustration is pretty funny, “Tell her about the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry!”
Ryan seemed to pick up on Dylan’s thoughts, saying, “I don’t think she wants to know about the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry—”
“Okay, can we all just please stop say ‘The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’,” Kaitlyn said, following Dylan’s prediction of her annoyance.
He smirked.
“It’s just this campfire story for the kids,” Ryan shrugged, “there’s supposedly an old woman who died in a fire a few years back. She haunts the woods, looking for her lost baby boy. There are like, reports of whispers, or whatever, and this figure that floats around…” He shrugged again, trying to make out he’s unimpressed, “You know, textbook ghost stuff. Some people say that if she catches you alone, she’ll try to turn you into her son… or kill you… or something. I dunno, it’s never really been clear. Anyway-” He held up his hands slightly, “Hag of Hackett’s Quarry.”
“Y-You made that up!” Kaitlyn said defiantly.
“Right here in the podcast man,” Ryan casually replied.
“Cool story, bro.” Jacob said, smiling.
Somehow it sounded sarcastic, and a snarky surge rising through Dylan won in his overall internal monologue on how to react. “Oh yeah, you got a cooler one?”
“Oh no… I wasn’t… being sarcastic…” Jacob looked slightly worried for some reason.
“I didn’t really tell it right.” Ryan mumbled defensively.
“Look, no— no, seriously dude, I just— I think that just came out wrong,” Jacob quickly reassured him.
There was yet another awkward pause.
“You gotta be careful with this stuff man,” Dylan hesitantly broke the quiet, “that shit’s true.”
“C’mon— dude, bullshit!” Jacob complained.
”What’s the hold up, Hacketteers?” Mr H’s voice resounded from above, and Dylan turned, squinting up past sunlight to see the man stood on the balcony, cup of tea in hand, staring curiously at them all.
“Hiya— yeah, nearly done, Mr H!” Jacob called up from behind Dylan.
“Well hop to it!” The man replied, “Get those butts in gear.”
A burn of second hand embarrassment ran around the group.
“Sorry, Mr H!” Emma called, “We had to liberate some luggage.”
That earned her a sharp hiss of, “Shut up!” from Abi.
Dylan hoped for their sake that they hadn’t broken anything.
“Maybe if somebody didn’t spend so much time trying to impress the ladies with his ghost stories,” Kaitlyn glanced at Ryan, whose face dropped in annoyance.
”You asked!”
Mr H looked slightly disapproving, “Ghost stories?”
Ladies? Dylan thought, mind stuck on Kaitlyn’s comment.
“The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry,” He supplied to Mr H when his brain snapped back, and heard Kaitlyn groan behind him.
“Ah.” Mr H replied, and Dylan noticed how he looked a little… upset.
He turned back to the group to see if anyone else had picked up on it.
None of their faces had changed, so seemingly no.
“Hey you still have the van key, Mr H?” Kaitlyn asked, her tone a lot more good-natured, reminding Dylan of when she spoke to the kids and to him when they first met.
“Why yes I do,” Mr H replied, and Dylan squinted up at him again, only to see the man fumble in his pockets, searching: they weren’t there. “You know, I’d loose my head if it wasn’t stuck on… back to the office I go.”
Mr H turned to go, then seemed to realise something and looked back at the group and said suddenly, “Give me a hand, would you Ryan?”
Ryan looked a little startled, but also relieved, “Oh. Okay.”
And of course now was when Dylan was suddenly struck with the realisation that his phone was probably dead, (he left it on when he handed it in and after being left in an office for two months there was no way it would have over five percent) and he was not going to survive the hours of a van trip without his music.
His playlists were kind of how he survived camp, he could focus on the music, not all the kids overlapping voices.
Mr H was probably his only chance of getting some charge.
“Yo, Mr H,” He called up hopefully, making the man turn around.
“What’s up, DJ Dylan?” He asks, a sort of smile on his face.
“Is there any chance I could get a little charge?” Dylan asked, “I want some tunes for the road.”
“Ah,” Mr H replied, then shook his head, mock-solemn, “no can do.”
“Cool,” Dylan forced away a rush of annoyance, “yeah, no worries.”
“Good man.” Mr H admonished.
“Uh… no big deal, you can share my earbuds,” Ryan told Dylan with another smile flash that gave Dylan a small burst of victory.
But that was… different. Not an unwelcome change to Dylan, but he knows that Ryan, of all people, isn’t really going to want anyone on his personal space— he usually tried his hardest to avoid situations in which that had to happen. It was completely uncharacteristic for him to reassure Dylan by offering him a chance to be in his personal space.
Dylan almost hated himself for not replying, he just smiled stupidly at the guy and backed away from the lodge a bit.
That was a very Dylan Dylan thing to do, and it felt strangely intimate to let the others witness it, let alone Ryan.
And he definitely didn’t watch Ryan go inside.
Mr H retreated into the shadows as well, and all of sudden, Dylan felt someone walking up behind him.
He turned to see that the culprit was a familiar red headed girl, smiling her soft smile.
“Hey Abi,” Dylan greeted, and was glad that the other councillors had dispersed into their own conversation, including Kaitlyn arguing with Jacob about something to do with bad signal (to be honest, it could be about anything, the pair fought so much — just like siblings — it was incredible they even managed to stay in the same room without murdering the other) whilst Nick weakly attempted conversation with Emma, who just seemed happy that she didn’t have to chat to her ex instead. “What’s up?”
Abi smiled harder, and at least this time, in front of this person, Dylan could let his cheeks flame red. “What?” He asked, but he knows exactly what. He was just playing dumb, trying to buy himself more time, just so he doesn’t have to talk about it.
Because that’s always fun.
They ask, he gets embarrassed, they make fun of him, blah blah blah. Same fucking loop every time.
“Dylan.” Abi says in this oh-come-on tone that Dylan knew really didn’t bode well for him, and she tilted her head to the side as she observed Dylan — a move Dylan only used to crack his neck, especially when someone else did it, and that had happened enough times that he doesn’t feel horribly exposed at the movement anymore. “Come on.”
“What do you mean, come on?”
Abi didn’t roll her eyes — she’s almost too nice to do that — but she gave him a small smile that seemed to be the closest she’ll get to an eye-roll and said, “You should tell him.”
Why.
“Uh, you know what I’ve thought about that from time to time,” Dylan began overly brightly, smiling way too hard at Abi, so she would realise he was kidding. Or maybe she wouldn’t. “and I came to the lovely conclusion of ‘fuck no.’”
Abi groaned, “Are you serious? Dylan, he’s clearly into you!”
Dylan snorted. Ryan had shown as much romantic interest in him as Abi herself did: none.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Abi, but, I’m gonna point it out: there is a very, very slim chance he is into guys.” Dylan folded his arms as if that would make his statement, “And, may I add, an even slimmer chance he’s into me.”
Abi tilted her head at him again, “The guy stares at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’s ever laid eyes upon, Dylan. I think he might be.”
“What, and you think Nick doesn’t do the same to you?” Dylan half teased, half just trying to get her off of his case. As far as his view could tell, Ryan didn’t give him any weird looks or glances whatsoever, he just sometimes looked at Dylan when he’d made a stupid joke.
The comment shut Abi up alright, though, because she opened her mouth, possibly about to mildly protest, but shut it again.
“Fair point. It’s just… hard.”
Dylan tried very hard not to turn that into a dirty joke.
“Why?” He asked, somehow succeeding in his efforts.
Abi ponders the question for a moment, “I don’t really know. There’s just something holding me back, and I’m not sure what it is.” She glances at Dylan, tilting her head again, that small smile making a reappearance. “What about you? Why can’t you tell him, if you have a reason?”
Rejection.
The feeling pierced harder than anything else he’d ever experienced, and the fear of it followed him every time he realised he was looking at a guy for longer than necessary, and started to long to be near them.
It wasn’t the dismissal of the crush that hurt the most, it was the feeling; it was the burning embarrassment that they knew that he’d liked them, wanted to kiss them, wanted to be with them like that. And no matter how obvious he was towards Ryan, at least he hadn’t had to tell him, that he didn’t have confirmation that Dylan had fantasised about it.
That was the worst part.
But he brushed the question off, Dylan style, and shrugged, lying through his teeth, “I don’t really know either.”
Abi nodded at his response, but Dylan knew she probably didn’t believe him, she had that weird look that Dylan used as a tactic to tell that someone thought he was wrong, or lying; someway between teasing and disapproving, maybe. “Today’s pretty much our last chance,” she pointed out quietly.
And neither were brave enough to reach out and grab it, whilst it was still there.
Disappointment welled up inside Dylan, not just for himself but for Abi, too.
“We’re so cheerful, aren’t we?” Dylan smiled at Abi, and she let out a weak chuckle.
“Well, even if we did have more time, another chance, would you take it?”
He didn’t answer this time.
They both know the answer, for both of them.
Completely opposite answers.
When Ryan got back, Dylan realised he had his phone in his hand, and by the looks of it, it was fully charged.
“Wait,” He asked Ryan, who glanced at him, expression impassive, “how did you get your phone back before the rest of us?”
“It’s cause I never turned it in,” Ryan replied quickly and quietly as he slipped past Dylan, who automatically moved to let him go past, something he usually rarely even recognised as something he was meant to do, he just assumed they would hopefully walk around him.
“You should’ve turned it off before you handed it in, Dylan,” Mr H pointed out, “Them’s the rules, you noob!”
Jesus fucking Christ, someone— something take me off of this earth right now.
Out of all the things Dylan never, ever wanted to happen, his sort of ex boss calling him a noob, for fuck’s sake, in front of his sort of ex coworkers, let alone the guy his brain had decided to go all weird and hyper aware about, and he wished that he’d never ever had to live through that. Embarrassment rose through him like heat off the sun.
It took Dylan a solid five seconds for his brain to start properly functioning again after that wonderful statement.
“I try not to dwell on the past, man,” He replied, throwing his arms out, praying that he wasn’t blushing.
It wasn’t an odd statement, really. He’d probably annoyed Mr H for the most of camp: bugging him about the radio shack, the times where there would be no music playing at all over the speakers because he’d had a huge ‘energy’ slump, the boyish energy to get along with the kids, the need for everyone to like him, no matter what.
But he tried not to dwell on the past for a different, personal reason.
“Good,” Mr H responded with a strange grin on his face that looked painfully forced due to his clenched jaw (it made his face look creepily distorted, and Dylan almost instantly associated it with Pennywise, that clown from a horror film he’d watched when he was twelve), “cause it’s time to dwell on the minivan and get on with our respective lives.”
And to remember how chicken you were for the whole long ass journey to not even ask Ryan for his number.
Abi and Nick probably hadn’t had as much luck with their strange, oddly cute, lovesick pining, but he still felt as though the pair had fared better than him.
Mr H was busy gesturing to Jacob, throwing him the keys and saying as he got into the minivan, “Move it, let’s go!”
Mr H and Ryan stood back from the van slightly after Jacob slammed the door shut, and it only took a few stutters of the engine sputtering to a standstill before Mr H moved the the window where Jacob’s face was visible and slightly blurred.
“What’s the problem?” He asked, an all too familiar expression he usually reserved for Dylan creeping over his face… impatience.
“Ugh, dude I don’t know,” Jacob replied, the hint of a smile played on his face, his tone was close to laughing, and Dylan instantly knew— he’d fucked up something. “I think something’s wrong with the engine, Mr H.”
A whispy glimmer of hope lit up inside Dylan, reeling his mind back to his earlier conversation with Abi — he was being given a chance and so was she.
It wasn’t a fifty fifty shot either, like if one took the dive and asked their respective crush out, it wasn’t as if the other person couldn’t either, they both could.
Well, if it was a second chance…
Dylan tried to keep his eyes on the ground, and to stop them from wandering over to Ryan. Maybe, he thought, scuffing the toes of his slip ons in the dusty ground, just maybe, he could use this whole laid back act to try to get Ryan’s number. Not taking it as far as he wished he could, just as far as he knew it could go. If he stretched his expectations for himself just a smidge.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Mr H’s voice resounds dryly from in front of him, and Dylan glances at the scene once more.
“Yeah, dude it’s just like…” Jacob trailed off, shaking his head multiple times, really overselling it, “…kaput!”
“Alright,” said Ryan, with an ‘alright, bet’ tone in his voice, “lemme try.”
”What? Dude, I’m telling you, alright, it’s busted,” Jacob said in a harsh, rushed mutter as if he’s trying to tell that to not only Ryan, but himself, and Dylan now knows for sure that Jacob has fucked with the minivan, because, damn, he really doesn’t want the van to actually work for Ryan, does he?
“Well, maybe you’re doing it wrong—” Ryan’s could-be-soft reasoning is cut off by Jacob mimicking him in a monotone, “‘well, maybe you’re doing it wrong!’”
“The fuck, dude?” Ryan said, sounding pretty pissed off, but Dylan can’t see his face, he can’t be sure.
“Enough!” Mr H cuts in, “Enough, both of you!” He started half beckoning, half pulling Jacob out of the vehicle, muttering, “Shit, come one, come on, let’s go,” whilst Jacob loudly said, “Alright dude, chill! Chill dude—”
Mr H pulled Jacob out, then got in himself, cursing, “Dammit!” When the engine won’t start.
He rounded on them all outside the window, “ I thought I told you kids to check everything!”
”We did!” Kaitlyn said swiftly, and Dylan’s eyes fell on her, admiring her nerve, as he didn’t think he could talk to Mr H whilst he’s like this. “It should be working…”
”Yeah, well…” Mr H started furiously, even though it’s not really anyone’s fault — apart from possibly Jacob’s — “‘coulda’ and ‘shoulda’ doesn’t mean it is, does it?”
He tried the engine again, then cursed multiple times under his breath, acting like they’re all children of innocence who’d never heard the word ‘crap’ in their lives.
Mr H got out of the minivan, and calmed himself down a bit, “Okay, okay…”
Dylan really can’t guess what he’s so goddamn stressed about.
“Look, it’s not that big of a deal,okay?” Jacob shrugged, “We’ll just… spend another night here.” His tone is way too relaxed and breezy, and okay, he’s definitely messed with the van.
“No, NO.” Mr H was frantic, and everyone was edging back from him, no one seemed to know what to do, they’ve never seen him like this before. “Just stop. Let me think.”
He started to pace, agitated, and Ryan eyed him curiously, but he also looked kind of scared.
Mr H went to the front of the car and lifted it, then yelled out suddenly as he slammed it down, startling the absolute fuck out of Dylan, but like the others, he just awkwardly stays silent, and they all stared at each other, confused and a bit terrified.
“Okay,” Mr H said, creepily calm after screaming out of the blue, “you’re right. You’re right yeah.”
”What?” Ryan asked, looking as perplexed as Dylan felt.
”Yeah, you’re right.” Mr H continued his ramble without missing a beat at Ryan’s word, then fumbled, chucking the keys at Ryan, who caught them.
The man walked briskly away, only speaking when he turned around to say, “Hey, Ryan, come here for a sec.”
Ryan followed him obediently, still looking confused, and Mr H spoke to him urgently but lowly as soon as he got into his own car.
Everyone exchanged weirded-out glances before unanimously agreeing to just watch Mr H and Ryan.
After exchanging a few words, Mr H sped off in his car, yelling something that sounded like, “keep the noise down!” out of the window as he went.
“So…” Dylan turned to Ryan, praying for an explanation for… whatever the fuck that was, “what was that about?”
“He, uh…” Ryan shifted uncomfortably in a way that told Dylan not many would like what came next, “said to stay inside. that we’re not leaving until the morning.”
He was still looking at Dylan as he spoke, looking at a complete loss.
Dylan instantly worked out that the poor guy probably hadn’t gotten many words in during Mr H’s little freak out, and probably knew as much about it as they did.
”Are,” Emma started indignantly, and Dylan tugged his attention away from Ryan hesitantly to look at her enraged face, “you kidding me?”
“Em…” Jacob said in a cajoling tone, smiling at her and rocking slightly from side to side.
“Are you kidding me?!” Emma repeated, a lot angrier this time, violently moving her arms up and down with every word, “What are we supposed to do?!”
“Well, we should go inside, like he said.” Ryan pointed out.
An idea formed in Dylan’s head.
If Jacob had locked them out here, or it was just fate or whatever, he better make the most of it.
“We could go inside. Until morning.” Dylan began, and all eyes fell on him.
“Yeah…” Ryan said, suspicious, and Dylan prayed he wasn’t about to get yelled at by his crush because that would be super fucking embarrassing.
He decided to stay a little in the dark with his plan for a moment, knowing that if Ryan really put his foot down, none of them would be able to do anything whatsoever.
“Or we could do something else,” He suggested, fighting to keep his tone calm and even.
“What… are you talking about?” Ryan said, properly confused.
“No Mr Hackett… No screaming kids,” Man, this was interestingly fun to drag out, “Just a bunch of grown ass adults ready to cut loose and get down with their animal side.”
Jacob’s caught on real quick, nodding his head rapidly and he sounded like he’s on fucking ecstasy when he spoke, “Oh HELL yeah!”
Dylan laid it all out for the seriously clueless ones and simply said, “P. A. R. T. Why the fuck not? Alright, it seems like the stars have aligned for us, no?”
Kaitlyn is the second to put in her approval, nodding too and saying, “Okay, okay, okay.”
“One last epic bonfire blowout for all time.” He raised his hands then spreads them out, revealing his finalised idea to the rest— well, mainly to Ryan.
There’s a pause, broken by an is-he-on-drugs Jacob.
”Oh dude, fuck yes, I’m in! Nick, you’re in?”
Nick shrugs, “I’m in.”
Jacob gestured to Dylan, and he burned to awkwardly fidget, but he can’t, not in front of them, “Dylan’s in, obviously. My man.”
He looked at Kaitlyn. “Kaitlyn?”
Kaitlyn held up her hands too, “I go where my people need me.”
“Yeah, okay… Em, what’d you say?”
Dylan could practically feel Jacob’s anxiety spike in preparation for Emma’s response.
“Mmm…” Emma drew it out, but chuckled as she finally replied, “Yeah, I’m in.”
Dylan turned to Abi, no longer needing Jacob’s word, waiting for her response.
“Mr Hackett seemed pretty insistent we stay in the lodge,” Abi said anxiously.
“He was just trying to freak us out!” Jacob reassured, but part of Dylan, the ‘Dylan Dylan’ part of him, kind of agreed with her. He couldn’t have been that worked up over trying to ‘freak then out.’ “You know… like um… Like one of Ryan’s stupid ghost stories.”
Abi raised another good point, “Why would he want to scare us?”
Her eyebrow was raised, and no one could really give her a good answer.
Ryan tried to though, as he broke the silence, gesturing wildly with his hands: impatient, “I don’t think he was trying to freak us out, Jacob. I think he was freaked out by something.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jacob whispered not very inconspicuously.
“Chris seemed real about this, guys.” Ryan said.
Pushing away his paranoia, which Dylan learnt never really helped him as a child, he turned to Ryan, attempting to console him, desperate for one last night to forget about the consistent mess awaiting him back home.
“Just say you’re in man. Come on,” Dylan’s voice was softer than usual, and he tried very hard to push away the thought that he’s essentially pleading, “One last night.”
Ryan and him both talk at the same time, Ryan’s worry overlapping his last desperate attempt to soothe;
“Yeah, but I promised I—”
“Dude, he won’t even know—”
Jacob cuts them off with a new, harsher tactic because he’s clearly getting bored; “No, no, nah, dude, it’s alright, it’s good, we get it, you know. You uh… you don’t want to disappoint ‘daddy’.”
Yikes. Odd way to peer pressure, Jacob, because the heck do you to say to that??
“I’m sure he’s just looking out for us,” Ryan shrugged off the comment easily, “no big deal.”
”Alright. Yeah, party!” Dylan smirked at Ryan’s instant floundering and “no, I didn’t mean,” and grinned fondly at the sigh in Ryan’s voice, and fuck, it feels like he’s burning up inside with how much much he likes this boy.
Dylan held up his hand, and he’s never longed for physical contact so much that he does this before, and his brain to mouth co-ordination fucked itself up a bit in his giddiness, “High five, touch my hand, Ryan.”
Dylan nearly faltered — was that too far? — but Ryan just sighed again and goes, “Fine,” and high fives Dylan back.
It’s childish, it’s stupid really, only a light palm brush — but it’s enough to make Dylan go, “Yes!” and when he retracted his hand, he rolled on his feet a few times in glee, ducking his head as his cheeks burn.
Jacob just takes that ‘fine’ as an ‘okay, go ahead,” and instantly goes to one hundred, “Alright, alright, alright, Hacketteers! Party planning committee, let’s do this! Um, okay, first things first, Nick and Abi, you go get some firewood, uh… Em and I will go to the store for some supplies, and uh, Dylan, you just, I don’t know, figure out how to charge the phones or something.”
When you come up with the whole idea but only get a half assed job because no one really knows you that well…
Dylan looked up and watched as everyone rushes to do their job, all of them handing him his phone before they go, and when Kaitlyn complained that she has nothing to do, Jacob assigned her of keeping watch over the firepit before sprinting after Emma, which was quite a funny sight to Dylan, a grown man running full tilt after the dumper in the relationship, and he unsuccessfully held back a snort.
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes at Jacob’s retreating back, but set off anyway, leaving only Ryan with nothing to do, and he looked a bit lost.
“You can come with me, if you want to?” Dylan offered, and Ryan visibly relaxed at the mention of being involved, almost smiling softly at Dylan, and he said, “Sure. I know where you can charge them anyway.”
He hadn’t thought about that, so well that’s good, because otherwise Dylan knew he would’ve probably trekked around the whole campsite searching for a place, and would’ve magically wound up getting lost.
“Cool, yeah, thanks,” Dylan said in reply, still managing to sound like a flustered little kid.
Ryan still doesn’t notice though.
Ryan unlocked the door to Mr H’s office, and considering summer camp budgets (their salaries were almost criminally low), it’s pretty nice, with it’s sun washed wooden walls adorned with paintings and the deep earth brown coloured cabinets give it a cosy, drowsy feel.
Dylan’s been in here before, but it doesn’t stop him from admiring it.
“Alright,” Dylan said as he took it in, “the inner sanctum.”
“It’s just an office,” Ryan’s voice resounded from behind him as he goes to shut the door.
“This is where the magic happens,” Dylan joked easily, waving his and the other counsellors phones in the air, his hand moving in a jerking-off gesture, and he’s still startled at how natural the jokes sound, even after two months of carefully crafting this personality together.
Ryan let out a faint laugh at his not-so-subtle implications, and Dylan could practically feel himself light up at it, “Yeah. Let’s just make this quick.”
Dylan understood that he doesn’t want to poke around Mr H’s stuff for too long, and he replied when he crouched down to mess with the chargers, “Sure, just gimme a sec to get this going...” He took someone’s phone from Ryan and plugged that in too, standing up afterwards, “And… engage.”
He looked up at Ryan, an earlier query coming to mind, and he might as well ask, whilst they’re here, “Podcasts?”
He’s aware that he’s started to stim a lot around Ryan, his good mood around the guy affecting them, and he was even doing it now, for fuck’s sake; he’s slightly rocking himself and he’s fighting an infectious smile.
“Yeah,” Ryan said simply, and great, by the looks of his body language, which hasn’t changed, he’s not annoyed by the question.
“Alright,” Dylan replied just as simply, trying to figure out how to continue this conversation, because he wanted to know Ryan, properly, wanted to know all his thoughts, mannerisms and just him in general.
Dylan can remember the last time he felt maybe a bit close to feeling this strongly about a person.
It didn’t end well, and that scares him.
He pushed the thought away, and takes a nicer approach, a very ‘Dylan Dylan’ approach; it’s softer, it’s sweeter, more considerate. “Uh, what’s it called? The one you’re listening to right now?”
“Uh…” Ryan looked as unsure as Dylan felt, tentative to sharing this, “Bizarre yet BonaFide.”
Dylan nodded along, “So like, ghosts and stuff?”
“It’s like… um, yeah, the weird and the wonderful,” Ryan supplied, trying to capture the motion with his hands, and Dylan fought back a smile — this is the most ‘eager to explain’ he’s seen Ryan. “Digging up weird mysteries and discussing whether they’re, well, bona fide.”
Even Dylan Dylan couldn’t pass this opportunity, and he can’t not grin at a moment like this, “‘Boner’ fide. Get it? Boner?” He laughed awkwardly, and again, Ryan showed no reaction.
Dylan kind of wanted to beg him for one, he kind of needed to know what to say next, how to act.
“Your wit knows no bounds,” Ryan replied.
Dylan knew to leave the topic — he didn’t even get Ryan to laugh, dammit — and his flashier persona beams into life immediately as a distraction, “So… should we check out what Mr H keeps in his private den of sin?”
He already knows the answer, this is Ryan, for god’s sake. It’s gonna be an immediate no.
As predicted, a very unsure Ryan screwed up his lips a bit, shifting his shoulders as he levels his weight from one foot to another, “Ah, I dunno man, I feel a little weird going through his stuff…”
“Okay, well, I don’t,” Dylan said, somehow having managed to make himself curious now, and he started to gently press Ryan to agree with him, “I mean, come on, what kind of dirty secrets does the owner of a summer camp full of impressionable young children gonna have anyway?”
Ryan raised his eyebrows.
Dylan laughed a bit at the implication, and said, “Not Mr H, I know. He’s cool.”
Ryan shrugged, letting his arms flap against his sides, “Always been cool to me.”
Dylan left him with a smile — he knows Mr H has been nice to Ryan, he can tell by how much Mr H willingly talks to Ryan, and casually banters around with him, how he entrusted Ryan with responsibility that Dylan has now fucked up, oh shit, can his guilt complex just shut the fuck up now?
He wandered around the office to distract himself, and all thoughts of him being an absolute dumbass fly out the window when he sees a gun hung up on one of the walls like a trophy, and he’s struck with how movie-like that is.
He turned to Ryan, asking, “Hey, what’s the gun for?”
“Ah, Chris — Mr H told me it was for — um… bears.” Okay, from Dylan’s experience, (the shifty tone, avoiding eye contact) that sounded like a lie, but maybe Ryan’s just not sure.
He’s also never seen a bear in these woods.
“Bears? Here?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah, he said they don’t really come around because he’s got the gun to…” Ryan trailed off, and Dylan knew.
“Yeah,” He said, and walked a little closer to the gun, the childlike curiosity tempting him to touch it.
“Just leave it alone,” Ryan said, almost urgently, dragging Dylan back reality and his age. “Just leave it alone.”
Dylan held up his hands in mock surrender and backs off.
He still kind of wanted to take it.
“Dude, we’re gonna be partying in the woods tonight, right? What’s if the bears try to crash?” He hung his head to the side at the end of the sentence, studying Ryan, and he doesn’t know why he’s so keen to take it, maybe — probably — he’s just being stupid. “Okay, it’s like my mom always said, ‘If you wanna party, you gotta bring protection.’”
Ryan grinned and laughed a bit, still enough to make a part of Dylan melt with fondness, “Ha, well… I think that she was talking about condoms.”
Dylan bit back a smile for the fiftieth time that day, his eyes flicking down to scan Ryan suggestively, and remained dead pan, “I’m not gonna fuck a bear.”
His mom had used to joke about that when Dylan was heading off to house parties by the age of thirteen, and had been confused at his lack of romantic partner, and his secretiveness about crushes.
Maybe it’s because he’s still staring, maybe it’s the suddenly serious tone, but Ryan balked a bit, smiling, and holy fuck, he’s reminded of how pretty he is when he smiles and Dylan kind of wanted to die now. “The most dangerous thing I’ve seen in these woods is a pissed off squirrel.”
“That sounds pretty scary,” Dylan said with a shrug and an eyebrow raise.
He’s giving up anyway, Ryan’s smile had faded and he gave him a serious look.
“Okay, fine,” He said, backing off again with little complaint.
“Well… we know where the gun is if we need it,” Ryan pointed out.
Dylan had only been joking, and those words were a scary thought.
What if they do need it?
He laughed instead, covering his unease with a quick comment, “Your call, man.”
Dylan continued his sort of gentle pacing. He didn’t want to freak Ryan out with how intense it can get, so Dylan created a new path for himself in his mind— looping round behind the huge desk, past Ryan, past the gun, past the window, repeat. Make it slow, dawdle a bit, look around, make it seem natural.
He made his way past the window, and when he reached behind the desk, his foot strike suddenly clunked with a much more hollow sounding tap.
Startled, Dylan looked down, and nudged the floorboard with his foot. There appears to be a square cut out of the floorboard pattern, in a new wood, and that’s where the hollow sound came from.
Dylan stepped back off of it, and mutters under his breath, “Well, hello, what is this?”
He glanced up and across the room at Ryan, who looked at him in a confused manner.
Dylan stomped down onto the square twice, asking Ryan, “You hear that?”
Ryan walked over until he’s behind Dylan, staring at the square.
“Is that a trapdoor?”
Dylan grinned excitedly at him, “I knew there was a secret sex dungeon around here somewhere!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan sighed.
Dylan could feel anticipation rise in him — that kid like curiosity kicks in again — and his eyes sparkle as he looks back down at the door. He really wanted to know what’s down there.
He can’t even hear the jokes the bantering side of him said, “I bet Mr H is into some real kinky shit.”
“Uh…” Ryan sounded a bit grossed out, “I doubt it.”
“Weren’t there a couple councillors that never showed up?” Dylan asked, still grinning a bit.
“Uh huh, why?” Ryan asked, looking like he knew what kind of dirty joke was coming, but was still dreading it.
“Secret… sex… dungeon.” Dylan said in a finalised tone, desperately egging Ryan to let him go down there, but he was cut off.
“Yeah, that’s not funny.” Ryan didn’t roll his eyes, but he still sounded exasperated, “It probably just goes down to the basement or something. Open it up.”
There it was — what he’d been waiting for. Dylan crouched down and grasped the handle, giving it a gentle tug upwards.
After it was opened, all Dylan could see was a ladder leading into hell no. He still wants to go down there— or, more preferably to his sort of fear of not being able to see what’s in pitch black scary darkness, Ryan could go down there. If there is some sort of weird scary monster, like his inner child is telling him, there’s a shotgun on the wall.
“Alright, well, it looks like a pit of eternal darkness. So…”
“You’re being dramatic,” Ryan says, and okay, he’s not.
“Climb down, take a look,” Dylan tried to convince Ryan, “Look, you can squeeze through there.”
Ryan snorted, “You opened it, you climb down,” He pointed out.
Alright then.
Dylan looked pointedly at Ryan, who darted over to hold the door in place, and really, Dylan’s trusting him with this. Being locked in eternal darkness with no one to comfort him is not his cup of tea.
He swung himself around and began to clamber down the ladder, jumping down when he got close to the bottom, bracing himself.
He turned around, and—
It’s literally an empty room. A secret empty room.
Damn, not even a cursed book on a creepy table or a dead body or something?
“What’s down there?” Ryan’s voice echoes through the silence, startling Dylan.
He smirked at an idea that runs through in his brain, and okay, he’s gonna go through with it.
“Oh my god, Ryan, you will not believe this…” Dylan started in a panicked, shocked tone, pulling a lot of kind of urgent sounding “What?”’s from Ryan and trailing off for dramatic effect before revealing, “It’s… nothing.”
“Oh. Lame.” Ryan sounded a bit disappointed, and, fuck it, Dylan’s gonna use that to his advantage.
”I had you going there for a second, didn’t I?”
”No. Maybe. Ju- Shut up.”
Dylan grinned. “It is, uh, pretty spooky down here, though” — not wrong, it’s a bit cold and the only dim light makes every shadow look like it’s stalking toward him and smells funny in a way that’s made Dylan’s hands shake — “and it smells very unnatural so… yeah, okay, I’m coming back up.”
He clambered back up to the office with a few creaks from the ladder and Ryan shut the trapdoor behind him.
Dylan instantly sank onto Mr H’s office chair, his hands gripping the sides so not to reveal to Ryan how much he’s shaking.
He span the chair around, and okay, that’s calming. The air and the motion clears his head for a moment, relaxing, and he said kind of dazedly, “Yeah, that’s a nice chair. I could get used to this.”
“You better hope Mr H doesn’t catch you taking his baby out for a joyride,” Ryan joked from somewhere behind the desk.
Dylan laughed in half surprise, half amusement at the sudden joke, and stopped his spinning to grin at Ryan, still swaying the chair a bit, not wanting to let go of that flying feeling.
He briefly recalled his conversation with Abi from earlier —“Well, even if we did have more time, another chance, would you take it?”— what’s the harm in flirting a bit more with a clearly clueless Ryan, and a very dumb idea springs to mid, planted there by Hackett’s Quarry’s nonchalant Dylan, and he turned his attention to the phone on the desk (he almost instinctively knew it would be there, so many people have phones in their offices), and started laying out his rather long handed way of asking for something, “Ring-a-ding-a-ding — Oh, sorry bud, gotta take this one second — Hello, Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp, what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. What can I do for you on this darn-tootin-doozie of a day?”
“Is that your impression of Mr H?” Ryan asked, sounding somewhat amused.
Interesting.
Dylan continued his spiel; “Uh. Yeah… Uh huh yeah… Yeah, I- You’re absolutely right, he does need to be nicer to Dylan.” He glanced hopefully at Ryan, who’s smiling widely, and oh my god he was pretty sure he was going to die, but somehow didn’t miss a beat, “And, uh, what’s that? You want him to give Dylan his phone number? That’s a little forward, but I can see what I can do…”
He swayed on the chair a little more at the smile on Ryan’s face, filled with glee.
“Smooth,” Ryan said, but he doesn’t sound sarcastic. It’s a different tone, one Dylan can’t quite figure out.
Dylan chuckled and puts the phone back.
He started rummaging around in the drawers, mainly to distract himself and so Ryan won’t see how red his face is, but he gets distracted when he finds a book. He flicked through it — it’s mainly lists and random dates and numbers — but a page caught his eye. It has all the counsellors names and random personal info on it, but two names are crossed out, still legible, which he reads aloud, “Oh, Laura Kearney and Max Brinly.”
“Oh yeah, those are the two that never showed up,” Ryan said.
Huh. Weird. Why would their names be in what’s clearly a journal or something?
It’s probably nothing.
“Yeah, it’s cause of these goobers that we had to work extra shifts this summer,” Dylan replied.
He put the book back, shrugging it off.
Dylan stands up, and walked to behind the desk, finding a photo of Mr Hackett and his kids; two quiet reserved teens who mainly moped around the camp, looking fed up and tired the whole time. He guessed it hadn’t been fun to have your home overrun by screaming kids for two months every year.
“Kaylee and Caleb Hackett,” He noted whilst staring at their smiling faces on the picture. They look genuinely happy in the photo, something Dylan can’t ever remember being whilst his mother randomly snapped unflattering photos out of nowhere of him and his sister when they were younger. “Weird kids, huh?”
He turned to Ryan, who shrugged, “I like ‘em.”
Dylan had forgotten about how close he was with the Hackett’s, and quickly tries to not sound like an absolute jerk, “Yeah, me too, um… They were pretty reclusive, you have to admit.”
Dylan put the photo down.
He goes back to phone, but on the other side this time, and is briefly reminded of an old 80s phone that one his friends had in their house, and simply couldn’t explain why they had it when all their other house phones were a different make, “How does he even receive calls, this thing looks one second away from turning to dust… wait can you ring people on this…”
Okay, maybe he should have another go with Ryan?
“Hey, gimme your number I wanna try it out,” He asked, trying to sound even.
“Why?” Ryan asks suspiciously.
“Uh, so that I can ask you out on a date, duh?” Dylan replied, trying to sound cool over the anxiety that’s now filling him.
“Mm, smooth,” Ryan said again, briefly pointing at him, but this time his emotions can be figured out. He seems… intrigued?
Dylan thought he might combust.
“I think if I tried a cell phone number on this thing it would explode though,” Dylan pointed out, picking up the phone again and placing it too his ear.
A horrible empty static sound that Dylan swore was not there before filters from the phone and a whisper of “Dylan…” made him start.
“What? Who is it?” Ryan asked from behind him, but Dylan can’t hear him properly, the static starting to feel more and more unsettling, eating him inside, there’s a lump in his throat— how the fuck did they know his name, oh my god was he in danger, how did they know he was gonna pick up the phone, who even was it, did they know where he lived, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—
Calm the fuck down. Ryan’s right behind you, you don’t wanna freak him out. Again.
“Uhhh, hello…?” He tried tentatively into the phone, absolutely petrified, and he can feel his hand that isn’t gripping the phone in a vice like grasp start to shake, so he bunches it into his t-shirt.
The static stops, and Dylan put the phone back, his other hand instantly curling into a fist as it shakes, nails digging into his palm.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…
“That’s weird I thought I heard someone…” He told Ryan, shocked at how he isn’t screaming or crying right now.
“Maybe you should’ve asked them out on a date?” Ryan teased, and Dylan stopped shaking. He didn’t know if Ryan picked up on his anxiety, or if he just wanted to make a joke, but he’s grateful for it, his hands have stopped shaking.
“Damn it!” he joked, “I missed my shot!”
Ryan laughed.
Dylan wandered over to the phones, trying to distract himself yet again, and when Ryan spoke again, Dylan’s pretty sure Ryan’s realised something, because his voice seemed a bit softer than normal when he speaks, “Can’t you like, speed it up at all?”
Dylan blinked at him, momentarily confused, “I can encourage them?” He leaned towards the phones and said in an over exaggerated, almost girlish tone, “Go for it, you guys can do it!” He glanced back at Ryan, “It’s not working. We’re gonna have to wait.”
He paused, and chewed the inside of his lower lip in thought. Asking Ryan anything about relationships seemed risky, but he had to try, right? See if he could clear at least one hurdle?
“So…” He began, looking at Ryan as he spoke, “Got anything goin’ on when you get back home? School or…?”
There’s another question lying in wait, bordering on a dangerous territory.
“Eh… jury’s out.” Ryan replied, and Dylan really wanted to know what they fuck that saying meant.
“Understood,” He said, even though he didn’t, and finally got to the question he was burning to ask, feeling another lump in his throat as he did so, “…Girlfriend…?”
Ryan looked very conflicted about this, and Dylan felt a rise of disappointment when he replied, “Uh… Not… Exactly…”
And of course, Dylan didn’t know if or when to shut up, and he was practically burning for answers, (because did that mean—?) and he kind of sways himself into the question with a comforting shoulder movement, “…Boyfriend…?”
Ryan smiled at him, and Dylan felt his face redden — fuck, that’s embarrassing — and he said in a way that made Dylan wonder if Ryan knows and enjoys having this flustered effect on him, because it’s said in a tone bordering happiness, “Free agent.”
Dylan stumbled over his words, blush deepening, “Cool. Yeah. Me too.”
Hurdle cleared.
“Are the, uh, phones…?”
Dylan can tell he still sounded so stupidly flustered, and he replied, “Uhhh, they could probably use a little while longer…”
We literally just spoke about this, Ryan.
Ryan nodded, and, oh shit, he’s flustered too, and it’s sweet, super sweet in a way that’s pulling at Dylan’s heartstrings. “Ah… okay…”
Dylan really wanted to just die now.
He searched for a distraction that’s different to chewing the inside of his mouth, and found himself in front of the door to Mr H’s office itself, and tried the door absent-mindedly, finding only the click of a lock to greet him.
“Yo, my guy,” He turned to Ryan, desperately trying to steady his voice, “toss me the keys.”
He lifted a hand and raised it, palm outstretched.
“Uh, so you can poke around in Chris’s private area?” Ryan asked, looking both wary and disapproving.
“I-I’m sorry is that something only you’re allowed to do?” Dylan tentatively joked, and Ryan looks close to fed up and Dylan now hates himself.
“Hardy har har.” Ryan replied dryly.
He kept pressing though— he’s bored, this could get seriously awkward very quickly, going to a new area could clear his mind.
“Come on, what’s the harm in looking?” He wheedled, trying different tactics at each sentence, “It’s— your not a little bit curious? I’m not gonna touch anything.”
Dylan knew he was probably lying at the last bit.
But he’s finally got to Ryan, it seems, because he huffs out, “Fine. Don’t let me regret it.”
“Can’t promise that, but—” He held up his palm and Ryan tossed him the keys, which he somehow caught with one hand despite never catching anything in all those terrible years of Phys Ed.
“Nothin’ but net,” He said casually, trying to unlock the door whilst still looking at Ryan’s unimpressed expression.
”You’re using that wrong,” Ryan pointed out, and Dylan looked down at the keys with a small, “Oh,” now focusing on what he’s doing.
He chucked the keys back at Ryan and opened the door, going inside curiously.
Ew, this feels like going into his parents room when he was like six.
“Huh.”
It’s kind of boring, if he’s honest.
He looked at Mr H’s open closet and snickers. It’s the same outfit over and over again, and Dylan turned to Ryan, who’s crept in cautiously behind him, “Fashion icon.”
“Mr H knows what he likes,” Ryan joked, dryly humorous.
“I’m sure he does,” Dylan replied, and he bravely gave Ryan a quick once over, eyes latching onto his mouth for a moment before looking back at his eyes.
This was edging an intrusively terrifying territory, he felt it, but he continued calmly, Ryan staring back at him with his mouth slightly open, acting like his heart wasn’t pounding out of his chest, “I know what I like too.”
He turns smoothly back to the wardrobe, patting the jokester version of himself on the back for that one, and feigns interest at the wardrobe, moving aside clothes, “Wow, there’s…” His hand made contact with the back of the closet, which gave at the press of his fingers, and he called out in surprise, “Yo!”
Despite Ryan’s protests of, “Hey, hey, maybe we shouldn’t…” and ducks into the closet — haven’t been in here for a few years, have you, Dylan? — staring at what can only be a secret room.
Dylan’s first thought after the shock is admittedly a very stupid one. Why is there light coming through? Does Mr H just love electric bills being high as fuck?
He entered the thing, found a light switch and flicks it on, and took in the scene before him in a stunned silence.
The room itself is bathed in a harsh white glow, and the room is downright creepy. The walls are lined in cork boards and shit, which are all absolutely covered in newspaper scraps, photographs, lists, ripped pages from books, looking straight out of Stiles Stilinski’s bedroom.
The main attraction is a desk, covered in scrunched up bits of paper, and atop it is several television screens, revealing in black and white footage of what Dylan unnervingly recognises as the camp itself.
“Uh, Ryan?” He called behind him, and after a pause, Ryan scrambled in behind him, his immediate reaction being pulled straight from Dylan’s thoughts, “Woah… what the fuck…”
“These monitors…” Dylan breathed, hands beginning to shake, “That’s camp…”
Had he been watching them this whole time?
A ridiculous thought that made Dylan question getting a new brain comes to mind about whether he accidentally saw Jacob and Emma getting down to business on these or not, but it’s pushed away by an old fear creeping up on him.
All the times he felt like something was watching him in the forest… he was right.
“Huh.” Dylan heard Ryan say, but he’s almost in full panic mode right now, and he leaned down to look at the monitors more closely.
“Has Mr H been spying on us?!” He hissed frantically, and spun around to check that he isn’t in the doorway, gaping at them now, and isn’t even relieved when he isn’t.
His breathing quickened, harsh and raw.
“No, no!” Ryan defended Mr H hurriedly, “I mean… no. No, he can’t be. These are just… They’re all just different trails into the woods, around camp.”
Dylan’s heart rate slowed down a bit, and he laughed weakly, “Uh, sure.”
He turned around to see a very indignant Ryan, which bought his mind back to where he was, and his breathing slowed more, especially as Ryan rattled off an explanation.
“Most of the cameras are pointed away from camp, so it’s not like he’s spying on the kids, unless they wandered into the woods. You know these are just… they’re probably just trail cameras.”
“What are trail cameras?” Dylan asked, mentally kicking himself for being so fucking stupid, still kind of freaked out.
Ryan didn’t seem to be exasperated at him and explained, “People set them up to catch weird random shit.”
And then Dylan was shaking again because that excuse royally sucked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
He stood up more to ground himself, fixing Ryan with a sharp, anxious look.
“Like… Bigfoot sightings you know? That kind of thing…” Ryan trailed off, but Dylan kept using it to ground himself, trying not to wonder why if these ‘trail cameras’ were really that innocent, why did they need to be locked away behind his closet?
“I didn’t know Mr H was into that kind of stuff. Shit, maybe he listens to that podcast you like.”
“Secret hobby, I guess.” Ryan replied.
Dylan looked at the old timey cameras, estimating that they probably weren’t the cheapest, especially if they were one of those vintage ones, “Expensive hobby.”
“Yeah, well, I mean, what else are you gonna do out here?” Ryan pointed out.
Fair.
Dylan’s anxiety had slowed to a stop, “I guess camp probably gets pretty lonely when there’s no one else around.” And if you’re a total introvert, considering the fact he knew Mr H had a whole family living out here with him.
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t as anxious anymore, but he did still ask, “Okay, but… why go through all the trouble to hide this room… through a secret door in the closet?”
“Ahhh… I mean it’s not exactly secret, right?” Ryan said in his last hopes to defend Mr H, “Like it’s just… hidden… by stuff.”
Not fair.
“Yeah, that’s what a secret is, Ryan.” He pointed out anxiously, “It’s weird. It’s major league weird.”
“Yeah, I don’t disagree with you,” Ryan mildly protested, “but—”
“It’s— it’s gotta be something juicy in here.” Dylan joked, trying to cover his anxiety spiking again.
“Hey, Dylan, it’s— it’s none of our business, and if you really want to know, you can ask him tomorrow.” Ryan said, and that’s a clear ‘can we leave now’ sign if Dylan’s ever seen one.“I’m sure that won’t be an awkward conversation, like, at all.”
“Okay, yeah,” Dylan agreed, sounding like a whinging child, “Maybe I will.”
“Alright, I-I’m leaving the secret lair,” Ryan said, proving that Dylan was correct in thinking he wanted to go. “Have fun.”
He started walking away, and with a realisation, Dylan called after him; “Hey you just admitted that it’s a secret lair!”
He leaned back down towards the cameras, staring at them intently, trying to recognise the surroundings to win over his paranoia, when one of the camera views of some grainy trees was knocked slightly.
A jump of worry hit him hard, making him mutter, “What was that?” out loud.
Maybe this was it, he was loosing his mind.
He looked more closely at the camera, praying an animal or a bird would come into view or maybe even Nick and Abi so he didn’t freak the fuck out.
The camera was just simply knocked again, going fuzzy this time.
He swallowed his panic, trying to convince himself that it was just an animal, just a fucking animal, and even spoke aloud again, his surprisingly calm voice relaxing him, “It’s probably nothing.”
He kept staring at the cameras, the weird frame rate and the trees calming him down until it bordered on dull.
“Okay this is boring,” He said to himself, launching himself up and away from the desk.
Dylan paced around the room, stopping briefly to look at some maps on Mr H’s crazy wall, his brow furrowing.
How’d you explain those?
Dylan tried to shake all his suspicions away, stepping over to some boxes, where envelopes lay, addressed to…
Okay, he couldn’t read that. It was too dark and the writing was too scribbly.
And as fascinating as this all was, he started to feel like he was in the basement again, so he walked out of the door and shut it carefully behind him.
He wandered around, ending up in the bathroom, which was… dull.
Dylan opened up medicine cabinet and scanned it, eyes widening as he read the labels, saying to the Ryan he couldn’t see but knew was nearby, “Woah, there’s some pretty heavy duty stuff in here.”
There was. It mainly enough EpiPens and pain killers to stock two ambulances (maybe Chris or someone in his family had an allergy or something?) but nothing that you could get high from, or anything illegal.
“Yeah, maybe let’s not touch that?” Ryan pleaded from somewhere to Dylan, sounding like an exasperated older sibling.
Dylan shrugged, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah, there’s nothing fun.”
He shut the cabinet.
Dylan wandered back to the main room — poking around in Chris’s bedroom did not sound like the greatest plan, and he went straight to the phones. They were all around thirty percent, so he decided that that was probably enough for now. He would’ve liked a bit more for himself, but he had a feeling that being here any longer would make Ryan combust with uncomfortable-ness.
“Nice, full up.” He muttered, then turned to Ryan, handing him the keys before unplugging their phones, tone instantly brightening, “Hey! Donezo.”
“Alright, cool. Let’s go.” Ryan said, opening the door — but instead of just heading out and assuming Dylan would follow, he instead just opened the door for Dylan.
“Thank you,” Dylan told him, almost sincerely as he walked out, hiding his surprise. The gesture was… nice.
Oh, who was he kidding, it was normal, he was over romanticising this. He needed to calm the fuck down.
Ryan silently followed, shutting and locking the door behind them.
Dylan grinned at Ryan, and they set off.
He grew so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the silence between them on the walk down to the bonfire pit.
“Hey Kaitlyn, guess what?” Dylan decided on his way down that he wanted Kaitlyn’s view on those monitors — they were weird as hell, he needed to know if Ryan’s weird ‘Chris Hackett is a saint’ theory could be proven wrong by anyone, because this felt weird, and he couldn’t be the only one thinking it. “Mr H is a voyeuristic creep. He has hidden cameras everywhere, and a secret room.”
Okay, now said aloud, maybe they should call the police the second signal existed. Or run away from the camp whilst they had time. Or both.
“No, that’s not—” Ryan began, about to infiltrate Kaitlyn, but she cut him off.
“Uh, woah now, back up, WHAT?” Kaitlyn blurted out, looking both stunned and scared.
Dylan could relate to that.
He grinned, putting on a ‘scary story’ voice he’d had to use for the kids over summer, “His eyes are everywhere. He’s always watching us.”
It was quite funny to see the usual intimidating Kaitlyn seem kind of scared, but her fear also made Dylan relax and joke around, because fuck, he needed to know if his reaction was justified.
“Knock it off, man,” Ryan looked exceedingly uncomfortable, and explained a little further to Kaitlyn; “he’s just got… trail cameras set up. Y’know, forest surveillance. That kind of thing.”
No, I don’t know Ryan, that’s why it’s so creepy.
“Oh.” Kaitlyn visibly relaxed and shrugged at Dylan.
“You don’t think that’s weird?” Dylan wasn’t even protesting anymore, because it was really freaking weird and he was stunned at how this terrible ‘explanation’ made everyone shut up about it.
Thankfully, Kaitlyn’s view on it was a teensy bit more helpful, “Yeah, he’s got a perimeter to check, kids to protect. Yeah, probably just to keep track of wildlife.”
“You guys have NO imagination,” Dylan complained. And no paranoia-influenced common sense either, by the looks of it.
“So… uh, what’s going on here? Everything ready?” Ryan asked, yet again moving away from any allegations that Mr H was evil.
Kaitlyn paused before responding, “I did see a weird light in the treehouse across the lake. Yeah, see that’s spooky.” She shot Dylan a pointed look then glanced at Ryan; “Hey, maybe it’s your girlfriend, Ryan.”
Any fear bubbling up in Dylan at the first comment immediately evaporated way the second comment. It was only amplified by Ryan’s sing-song tone of reply; “The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry…”
He looked at Dylan for a moment, grinning a bit, and Dylan inwardly jumped a bit before remembering their earlier collected provoking of Kaitlyn.
It seemed to still be in full action, as Kaitlyn groaned and replied, “I told you never to say ‘Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’ again.”
A gleam of amusement lit up Ryan’s face, “What’s wrong with saying ‘Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’?”
Dylan exchanged a smirk with him, and Kaitlyn regarded them with the look of a disappointed teacher.
“Are you done?”
There was a pause before Kaitlyn’s face switched back to laid back as she spoke again, “You know, I just realised we may never see each other again after tonight.”
Unless Jacob’s attempts didn’t work and the guy just decided to re-fuck up the van for another day in paradise.
But—
“You can’t have just realised that.” Dylan pointed out dryly.
“Just trying to set the mood!” Kaitlyn defended, and embarrassment flared up within Dylan.
For fuck’s sake. Why was she even doing this? Didn’t Kaitlyn also like Ryan? Or supposedly like Ryan? Also why did everyone have to know about this stupid crush? Well, everyone except—
“What mood?” Ryan asked curiously.
Oh. My. God. Out of all the people in the world to pick, Dylan’s type just had to also be the most clueless ones.
Kaitlyn egged it on, and Dylan silently prayed to whatever was out there that he didn’t go as red as he thinks he did. “The mood, the vibe. Y’know.”
Okay, he has to get out of there.
“Speaking of setting the mood,” Dylan cut through what would’ve been more confusion from Ryan and said, “I have work to do. Okay?” He sat down as he spoke, trying to ignore how he could quite literally feel Ryan looking at him, “Because playlists don’t make themselves — well I guess they do, but…” He trailed off, and got out his phone to try and find a suitable playlist.
He felt, rather than saw Ryan’s eyes flit away from him.
“Alright, Ry guy — time to get wood.” Kaitlyn’s voice resounded from somewhere to Dylan’s left as he scrolled through his main list of downloaded songs to check which ones would be appropriate and acceptable to play with the councillors there. Dylan’s head snapped up at the last comment, however, cheeks burning red, not sure where to look.
“Yikes.” Ryan replied, seeming indifferent. “Wording.”
Kaitlyn quickly looked at Dylan, who re-bowed his head just in time before she spoke again, “Oh. I know what I said.”
Dylan got a sudden urge to go and drown himself in the nearby lake.
A crunch of feet on dead leaves broke his plan of action, however, brought him back to reality and his head snapped up to see Abi and Nick walking down the path, both carrying twiggy branches and smiling hard.
Dylan smiled at them, making a mental note to speak to Abi about it later, then went back to playlist making, zoning off from Abi greeting them, only coming back to reality when she said, “We would’ve gotten more but there was a hog — or a boar, but Nick was very very brave, and took one for the team.”
Kaitlyn’s voice mocked shock as she replied, saying, “Oh my gosh, it can’t be… The Hog of Hackett’s Quarry!”
“What?” Abi replied, perplexed.
“Thought you hated that phrase.” Ryan’s voice pointed out, and Dylan smiled at his phone like an absolute idiot, quickly going blank faced, praying that no one noticed.
“Big jokes take big sacrifices.” Kaitlyn replied.
Dylan could almost hear Ryan’s eye roll, it was that predictable. “You’re so brave.”
There was a pause of silence, then a loud, resounding twinkling, fizzling sound drew Dylan’s attention to the sky, where red sparkles flew up against the pale blue skyline.
“Woah—” He stared up at the sky, unmoving as the firework resounded a loud bang over the woods, wincing at the noise, covering his ears reflexively as much as he could with one arm.
Emma danced down the path, smiling, “Special delivery!” with Jacob following her like an obedient dog. It was a kind of funny sight.
Kaitlyn’s, “Woah, woah, woah! Where the hell did that gun come from?” drew Dylan’s attention to the large gun strapped over her shoulder, not dissimilar to Mr H’s gun in his office.
He looked at Ryan with a slightly mocking sad glance, but Ryan smiled and shook his head at Dylan.
Dylan felt his cheeks redden at the smile.
Okay, he needs to grow up.
He looked back down, racking his brain briefly to remember what he was doing, and remembered— playlist.
Even Nick and Jacob’s horrendous singsong of a weird tune over a popcorn snack didn’t make him look up this time, but next thing he knew — when he was done — Abi was sat beside him, still a bit pink in the face, and Kaitlyn, Nick and Jacob were all gone.
“I’m done,” He announced to no one and Abi, at least, snorted.
“Yay to Dylan.” She said with a grin.
“Oh!” He asked, remembering, “How’d it go with Nick? You two looked really… smiley.”
“Did you make out?” Emma suddenly asked, startling Dylan, who’d almost forgotten she would’ve been listening, and making Abi’s face flush a bright red, and she started stammering.
“No— no! No, we didn’t. But he, um. He watched me do a drawing. He said it was… he said I was talented.” Abi finished awkwardly.
What. A. Simp.
Dylan whistled lowly. “Man, he’s whipped. But it’s- it’s nice, I’m happy for you.”
Abi smiled happily, “so he’s interested?”
Dylan grinned, “Fuck yeah, he’s interested. Dudes down bad.”
“How can you tell? Is there a magical dude telepathy?” Emma asks almost critically.
If there was, Dylan probably wouldn’t be part of it. He really doesn’t know how to reply.
“Complimenting.” He says, walking over to the speaker that had always been setup by the fire, and plugs in his phone. “Real, genuine, compliments? Taking actual interest in what you’re interested in? He’s caught feelings, probably a long time ago. Sadly, there is no ‘dude telepathy’, as you call it, otherwise I would be having a lot more luck in dating.”
Emma laughed at that, and Abi was almost glowing with happiness. She sat down on an empty log, smiling widely to herself.
Dylan finished setting up his music, pressing play on the newly created playlist, and sat down as music that was familiar to him at least started to emit from the speakers, the opening bars calming him down.
The group listened in silence for a moment before Abi looked up, eyebrows raised in recognition. “Holy shit! Is this Queen?”
“Yes!” Dylan replied, overly gleeful that she understood, “now for the real test: which song?”
Abi thought for a moment, tilting her head and twisting her lips, the very image of perplexed, listening intently.
“Oh, I dunno.” she replied, slapping her arms onto her legs, giving up.
“Nooo, Abi,” Dylan pretended to whinge, dragging out the vowels in the sentence, “keep trying, c’mon.”
“It’s ‘good old-fashioned lover boy’.” Ryan said, and the group turned to him in shock.
Dylan spoke first, looking anywhere but at Ryan’s eyes, which he knew were latched onto him by the warmth he felt on his face, and chuckled, “Never would’ve pegged you as a Queen listener, Ry. But — dude, you ruined the game.”
“My bad.” Ryan replied, almost mischievously, and Dylan glanced at him, locking eyes, fighting the inevitable blush that would spring to his cheeks. The corner of Ryan’s lip was curled upward in a half smile, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he also said quietly, still looking directly into Dylan’s eyes; “it’s a good song.” He smiled properly, softly and looked away.
Dylan was rendered speechless, and he just sat down, utterly bewildered at the prospect of… Ryan being nice. As if he hasn’t been before.
God he’s an idiot.
After Kaitlyn, Jacob and Nick returned from what Dylan learned was a shootout over an old, outdated peanut butter popcorn snack thing, they settled into places on the logs, watching as the sky turned from a light blue to a mesmerising orange, before the last dregs of sunlights were whisked away by an inky blue sky, decorated with stars and a large, beautiful full moon, blanketing them in.
It wasn’t warm, however, so Nick started the fire— a job he’d done all camp, and the practise paid off. Those orange flickers flames weren’t only vast, but they were giving off a strong warmth.
There had been polite, small conversation here and there, but nothing that everyone was involved in, and when they all tapered off into silence for the billionth time, Dylan had had enough.
“Alright!” He said, clapping his hands together, “New idea! Party game.”
He was met with sighs and groans, but he persisted, “Come on people, we may never see each other again after tonight! Let’s make some memories!”
“Well, what’d you have in mind?” Kaitlyn asked from beside him.
“How about the ultimate game of secrets and lies… Truth or Dare, but, Dylan style.” Okay, summer camp him was on a roll, because Dylan Dylan really, really hated Truth or Dare. Like— with a passion. It was one of the worst things for him in childhood, and he sometimes went at lengths to avoid it, mainly because he steadfastly stuck to truth (he was not sticking his head in a freezer for others amusement) and it had nearly gotten him outed more than once.
But, summer camp him blabbered on as if this didn’t bring up several awful occasions on Dylan’s behalf, “Okay, house rules are… someone asks you truth or dare… Then you choose and then you do. There’s no ifs, ands or buts.”
“So, like normal truth or dare?” Kaitlyn pointed out.
“Yes,” Dylan replied, “I’ve just seen people change it, that’s all.”
“So, we can like, make people kiss?” Kaitlyn asked, almost eagerly.
Dylan already knew was she was prospecting and didn’t really feel like watching it happen.
At all.
“If they choose dare, yeah. As long as everyone consents, of course.” Dylan replied, trying to keep his voice even.
“Cool beans,” Kaitlyn replied, and Dylan saw her eyes scan the group before she smirked to herself.
“I mean, keep it in your pants until it’s your turn, but…” Dylan teased.
Kaitlyn laughed it off with ease, to Dylan’s surprise (he kinda thought she’d get pissy with him for that), “Well who does get to go first?”
“Well, it’s house deals, so…” Dylan made a sort of ticking sound to himself as he too, scanned the group. He clapped his hands when he landed on a suitable person, “Abigail! Truth or dare?”
Abi looked kind of startled, and she replied, “Oh! Ummmm… Truth.”
“You really dodged a bullet there huh?” Dylan said, alluding to Kaitlyn’s previous comment (to be honest, it had scared him off picking dare too), “Alright, here goes.” He knelt forward, praying he wouldn’t start rocking back and forth, that had a tendency to suck on logs. He thought over his question for a moment. Kaitlyn had kind of brought up more not PG-13 stuff with her question about kissing, so he guessed he could get the ball rolling on that, keep things interesting. “Have you ever slept with anyone?”
In the future, Dylan would look back on that and cringe. It was very personal question, and considering how embarrassingly low his ‘body count’ was, it was a very shallow move.
Abi got instantly flustered too, muttering, “Oh.. I, uh…”
Ryan quickly stepped in, “Hey! Take it easy, man, that’s too far.”
Present Dylan also got flustered, — yep, that was a dick move, you fucking idiot — and quickly said, “Come on, I’m not… finished… have you ever slept with anyone… at this camp?”
Abi instantly relaxed, “Ah, no! Nope, sorry.”
Dylan prayed she could forgive him for that, “Alright, Abi, it’s your turn.”
”Alright, okay, um…” Abi looked around the circle, searching for someone, and Kaitlyn got way too impatient way too quickly, going, “Oh my god, Abi, just pick someone!”
Dylan decided not to shoot her a glare, however, it would be kind of hypocritical.
”Okay, okay! Um…” Abi was still chewing her lower lip, looking nervous and worried as she glanced around the circle. “I don’t know!”
She glanced around again before Emma firmly but seemingly fondly interrupted, “Ugh. Ding ding ding! Too late. My turn.”
Emma, unlike Abi, picked her victim instantly, “Ryan — truth or dare?”
Ryan tilted his head, thinking it over, “Dare. Give me what you got.”
Dylan considered getting up and jumping into the lake.
“Okay, Ryan. Your dare comes with a choice.” Emma said, exchanging a plotting look with a Abi.
Dylan instantly tensed.
That is fucking terrifying. What—
“Can she do that?” Ryan asked, looking straight at Dylan, but before he could reply, Emma responded.
“I can do whatever I want. And I dare you… to kiss.. either Kaitlyn…”
Dylan’s stomach plummeted and his leg started to shake, thankfully not attracting any attention.
“Or Dylan.”
Dylan stared at her in horror, his eyes going to Abi, mouthing a quick, “help me”. She shook her head, smiling.
Oh fuck.
This could either go the best way of his life — or the worst.
“Wow… I mean…” Ryan looked a little stunned, “I guess ‘both’ is off the table?”
Dylan’s eyes jumped to Ryan in shock.
Oh.
Oh.
He wasn’t expecting that.
He leant forward, trying to avoid everyone’s stares, leg shaking more and more, his nerves building up faster and faster each passing second, focusing on a particular bit of grass that he decided was much more interesting than this conversation.
“Sorry!” Emma said, tone light, and almost… excited? “I don’t make the rules.”
“I mean.” Ryan’s voice made Dylan tense, even though the other guy sounded unbothered, as per usual, “You literally just did, but okay, let’s do this.”
Dylan started to weigh up his options on how fast he could get himself to the lake he had in mind, when—
“Dylan. Let’s go.”
His head shot up, every thought about how stupidly stunned he must look falling away as his eyes fell on a very relaxed looking Ryan, and he saw Jacob smiling at him out of the corner of his eye.
Holy. Shit.
Dylan slowly got up, putting his bottle down, avoiding looking at Kaitlyn.
He heard Jacob cheer and Emma whistle as he walked over to Ryan, now panicking like all hell.
Then he was in front of Ryan, in his personal space in a way that didn’t feel real, like this was a dream. The hazy smoke and Ryan’s smile made it feel like one, anyway.
Dylan leaned in almost cautiously, every thought in his head about how far this could go, if he smelt bad, if this was okay, if he was going to die soon because his heart rate was worryingly fast, and he wasn’t sure if he could do this.
But Ryan’s hand gripped the bottom of his shirt, pulling him that last few centimetres in, and every thought evaporated.
It was messy. And short, shorter than he would’ve liked, and he was too scared to put his hands anywhere, but it tasted of smoke and alcohol and he could feel Ryan’s breathing hitch slightly, and it was everything Dylan had wanted, and far more than he would’ve expected from ‘no physical contact ever’ Ryan. When he broke away, Ryan’s hand slowly uncurling from his shirt, lips tingling, he stared at Ryan, almost awestruck.
Dylan was pretty sure Ryan could see the stars in his eyes.
Only Ryan heard him mutter a small, “Oh,” and smiled up at him, softly and reassuringly.
“Always happy to please.”
Same here.
And, oh, he’s pleased alright.
Dylan backed away slowly, still wanting to linger in that space, needing to soak in that memory, so when he finally looses it, it can hurt, and cut into him like he wants it to.
Kaitlyn cheers from behind him as he just as slowly sits back down, dazed.
He smiles like an idiot, a proper, huge, blooming smile, every part of him giddy and high on a sort of bliss he wants to drown in.
Dylan hears himself laugh, not really in the moment, still hanging onto the feeling, and he ducks his head down shyly, hand tracing over the part of his shirt that Ryan grabbed.
He isn’t aware that of Ryan speaking, he just stares at him numbly, head spinning.
Fucking hell.
His eyes find Abi, who’s grinning at him, and she sends him a swift thumbs up.
“You’re whipped.” She mouthed at him, and he ducks his head again.
He is whipped.
That isn’t so bad.