my dearest dear || rylan oneshots, headcannons and more!

𝙘𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨, 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬

mentions death, blood, major gore.

.

this was usually after college classes. a begrudgingly long day of classes. they wanted nothing more than to bind themselves in a warm, soft room, and like a pair of kittens, huddle closely together, in an unending fit of comfort and love.

most times, ryan would be underneath, lying on his back, dylan on top of him, holding onto him like the world was ending, as he stuffed his face into his chest. he'd sigh happily into his torso, smile wider than the sun as his grin never ended. they'd comfort each other, console each other, confide in each other.

especially during those moments, those scary moments.

ryan? never leave me. okay? don't die. promise me you'll never go.

that same dream; ryan's face smashed in by the butt of a shotgun, muscle and blood, nerves and bone exposed. dylan could still hear the sickly wheeze, how he struggled and fought to breath through his ruined face. but it didn't happen, it couldn't have happened. somehow, his brain had managed to convince him that ryan died, and this was just a figment of his imagination. that he wasn't actually with him. that his mind was just broken, much like him, destroyed and lonely.

he knew ryan had his own problems, his own demons. and he'd hate to dump this onto him. but there was always the,

just tell me about it. i don't mind, i'm listening, dylan.

he'd assure him. tell him it's okay, and that the path to recovery was hard if faced alone.

so there. they weren't okay, they will never be okay. but they were just glad to get better together.

++ more to be added 👨🏽‍🤝‍👨🏻