e-Bae

9

(A/N Somehow, two days turned into over two months. I'm so sorry for not updating for such a long period of time, but the writer's block when it came to this story was unbelievable.)

"That guy keeps staring at me," York whispered to Ryan as they sat in her living room.

After making sure that Thomas wouldn't die, either from embarrassment or his injuries, Caleb left so he could drop Xoe off at home. Toby dragged his sister home by her purse, promising to be back later to check up on his "patient." Ryan tried not to read into the disappointment on Thomas's face when he heard that, or the way he made sure her friend gave him a very long hug as payment for his cooperation.

Rolling her eyes, she shifted her focus from the movie to Thomas, who was, in fact, staring at her cousin. Her cousin, who still would not meet the injured boy's eyes. They had spent a large chunk of the time he had been back explaining to him why a book character was sitting on her living room couch, and it was at that point he realized that he had been featured in the book as well.

As Thomas's love interest.

Ryan wondered if Thomas knew this as well, and judging from the confused stares in his direction, he was slowly coming to that conclusion. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of all these events. It hadn't even been a week since Thomas appeared in her room and now her entire life was changed.

And she couldn't say with certainty it was for the better.

* * *

"Ryan."

Looking up from her computer, the girl in question met Thomas's eyes. He was on her bed, leaning over her shoulder to watch her edit his story. Ever since York came, he had been eerily silent, and she was just waiting for him to say something. Her cousin had left an hour prior, having to go back home for dinner. The awkward atmosphere had not been fully diminished, but he was able to give Thomas a brief goodbye before heading home.

"Was that supposed to be the guy I was kissing in the story?" he asked, twisting the pajama bottoms she stole from Ross between his shaking fingers. 

He mind was jumbled; he didn't know what to think or to feel. Was he supposed to have this pressure in his chest whenever he saw that red-headed boy, or was he just going insane? In the story, everything was so much simpler. He had his lines, and he delivered them. He felt the pain, and then got over it. Now, it was like there was a hand in his chest, constricting around his heart whenever he met the other boy's eyes.

And he hated it.

Ryan took note of his drawn in features and laced her fingers with his. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but all it did was provide another distraction. He began to play with a ring around her pinkie while she spoke.

"Yeah," she started softly, "it was meant to be a little cameo. Just an idea that had been churning around in my head for a while. The guy was going to be in the story, so I decided, why not base him off a real person that I know."

She paused.

"Do you feel how you felt in the book toward him?" 

Thomas shook his head, not in denial, but utter confusion. It would make sense that he would have the same feelings for York as he did in the book, yet feelings were always fleeting in the screen. Moments never lasted forever, and it was always on to the next scene in hopes of forgetting the last even faster. He wished that he had the basic idea of knowing what was happening in his chest, but he didn't. Yet, the most morbidly hilarious part of this whole ordeal was that he truly did not feel this way. This . . . love was forced by months and months of acting and being around the red head's digital form. The closest thing he felt to what he considered attraction was toward an overly cheerful boy that was too likable for Thomas's sanity.

"No," he finally answered, disentangling his hand from hers. She was looking at him in concern. "But I feel like I should."

Sighing and at the verge of tears, Ryan rested her head on his shoulder. It was all her fault. She was making his life miserable already, and she was the one that created it.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry."

He spun her ring around her finger, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. The brown irises had nothing akin to hate in them, just the wariness that came with accepting one's fate.

"It's not your fault, Ryan. Go back to editing the story, I'll try to get some sleep so I don't bother you."

Pulling away from her, he slid himself from being propped on her headboard to laying on her bed. Her parents were at work at the moment, and wouldn't be back for a couple more hours, so she had no problem with him catching some shut eye. The events of the day were mentally tiring for her; she could hardly imagine what they did to him. She watched him as he tugged the blankets over his head, and tried to ignore the way his shoulders shook as if he was silently sobbing underneath.

Turning back to her computer, she distracted herself with checking her notifications, and frowned at what she saw. There were comments flooding her feed and messages in her inbox, and none of them were positive. While Ryan was open to constructive criticism, these were bluntly worded attacks against her as a person. A few people had decided that her story was too similar to another's, and was berating her for plagiarizing, despite the fact that when she checked, her story had been up months before the other had been posted. She was discouraged and disgusted, to the point where she didn't even want to continue to read what was being said.

It seemed as though this day was just continuing to travel in a downwards spiral, and she had no way to stop from falling down with it.

* * *

Waking up to the sound of tapping, Thomas groggily stumbled out of Ryan's bed. His bare feet pressed against the cold wood of the floor, the shock of the new temperature jolting him into her dresser hard enough to where he knocked over her alarm clock. Steadying the device, he checked the time to see that it was only around six o'clock and shook his head. He couldn't fathom how all these events happened in the span of a few hours.

Moving slowly to where the tapping originated, Thomas wondered where Ryan was. Then, he heard the nearly silent sound of running water and assumed she was in the shower. The tapping got louder, and he finally reached the window, only to see a grinning Tobias hanging on the ledge.

He rushed over to open it, grateful when the boy hopped through. However, he only grew self-conscious when he saw Toby's bright smile dwindle down into a concerned frown when his sneaker-clad feet hit the floor. The short boy studied him quietly, then suddenly reached up to touch his face. Thomas realized that evidence from his cry fest was probably still there.

"Thomas, what happened?" the brunette asked, fingers lightly tracing the dried markings of tears on the boy's skin. He had to strain himself onto the tips of his toes to meet his eyes, but he was too worried to care. At this point, Thomas had raised his own hand to cover Toby's, fingers wrapping around his as if he was afraid he would disappear.

"You can tell me," Tobias continued in a voice just above a whisper.

Thomas did. He allowed himself to break down in Toby's arms for the first, but not the last, time. He let his mouth let out the confessions he never expected he would speak out loud. Of how he felt so overwhelmed suddenly existing. How he wished he had experience dealing with things outside of the computer. But, mostly, how he wished his thoughts were his own, yet he was still controlled by the events of his story.

And Toby listened.