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Panic Room | Shyan

“Get in the bathroom, Ryan,” Shane says, pushing him in there and promptly shutting the door. “Five minutes in the haunted bathroom.”

Ryan looks around, needlessly, because it's so dark he can't see a thing. “You're an ass, Madej.”

All he hears is laughter from the other side. The five minutes go by like molasses in January and finally, Shane told him the minutes were up.

Ryan puts his hand on the doorknob and turns, and finding, much his dread, the knob wouldn't turn. Instead, it made a clicking noise which meant the door was locked.

“Haha, Shane, you can unlock the door now,” Ryan laughs dryly, yanking on the door.

“I didn't?” Shane sounds confused and he says, “There isn't a lock out here, it must lock from the inside.”

Ryan blindly looks for something that would feel like a lock, and he doesn't find anything. “Shane?” he asks shakily. Panic and anxiety and adrenaline wash through every nerve and vein.

“Yeah, buddy?” Shane asks. His voice sounds concerned, like legitimately concerned.

“I think the ghost locked the door and now I'm-I’m freaking out,” Ryan says, bracing his hands against the door. “Like, bad.”

Ryan’s body trembles, a panic attack taking over his muscles. Tears well up in his eyes from being overwhelmed, both in the attack and being locked in a haunted bathroom.

“Okay. Is there anything I can do from out here?” Shane asks softly. Ryan hears rustling and then looks down to see Shane's finger under the door.

He sits on the floor and touches Shane's finger, already feeling slightly calmer. He smiles softly, tears streaking down his face. He sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“Baby, tell me about the room,” Shane says. “Five things you can see, if you can.”

Ryan breathes in, shaky and deep. He looks around. “U-um, there's a mirror, I think and.. uh, the floor? There's also a toilet brush in the corner by the sink. Um, a… a broken lightbulb.”

“Good job, puppy,” Shane praises and Ryan preens a little bit. “Okay, now four things you can feel. Describe them for me, please.”

Ryan uses his sleeve to dry off his face and sniffs again, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the door. “Well, there's your finger. It's comforting, warm and a little calloused. There's the, uh, floor, which is kind of cold and it's smooth. It could be white or maybe a cream color. Also, the door, which was white and it's probably, um, wooden with brass stuff…”

“One more touch thing.”

“Um. I can feel my phone in my pocket. It's black and it's an iPhone something or other,” Ryan continues, voice steadier, feeling more grounded in reality.

“Wonderful. You're doing wonderful, baby. Name three things you can hear,” Shane says, obviously hating that he and Ryan are so close and yet, so fucking far away.

“Your voice, duh. Um, there's a slight buzzing coming from somewhere and an owl outside.” Ryan sticks his fingers under the door, gripping Shane's sleeve.

“Alright, great. Now, two things you can smell. You're so close, honey,” Shane says, only just masking his fear. “We've almost got you out.”

“There's… rain on the wind outside. And the, uh, unlit lavender candle.”

“Okay, one thing you can taste,” Shane says, brighter and hopeful. They must be on the brink of opening the door.

“I can… if I think and remember, I can taste your kiss from earlier. It's tasted like peaches,” Ryan says, sliding his fingers back under the door. “Your lips were peachy and soft and your hands were on my waist. You had to bend down because I'm tiny, even though I was standing on my tip toes.”

“Mhm. I remember, sweetheart. We've almost got you. Keep talking to me,” Shane says, something rustles and the knob jiggles.

“The hotel room was warm, but not too much. You were wearing practically nothing, just a t-shirt I keep telling you is too old and some gray boxers. You were wearing white socks too,” Ryan remembers, closing his eyes. Calm pulses through him. “You kept me safe and secure in your arms, like I'm something real important to you. And then, out of nowhere, you picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. You tickled me ‘til I cried.”

“Yeah, I did.” Shane's voice sounds fond. The knob jiggles again. “Stand up, puppy.”

Ryan stands and faces the door. The feelings from the kiss earlier leech back and he feels drunk slightly. He hasn't drank yet today, but he feels intoxicated, just from the memory of Shane's lips.

The door falls open and Shane rushes in, grabbing Ryan’s face and looking him over. “Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I ever should've pushed you in here, it'll never happen again, baby, I'm so, so sorry!”

“Shane,” Ryan says and when Shane doesn't answer or even acknowledge his name, Ryan just sighs. “Daddy?” Ryan asks softly, low enough so the others won't hear, cupping Shane's neck.

“I'm okay, I promise,” Ryan tells him, standing on his toes and kisses Shane's nose.

Shane softens, running his thumb over Ryan’s cheek. “Okay. If you promise.”

Shane glances down at Ryan’s mouth and back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” which was Ryan’s answer every time Shane asked that question.

Shane leans down, pressing his lips to Ryan’s shortly. “I love you, baby. That's why I worry so much.”

“I know, Daddy, it's okay. I like that about you,” Ryan says softly. He kisses Shane again. “I love you too, you big oaf.”

Shane smiles. “D’ya wanna go back to the hotel?”

“Depends, are we gonna play or are we gonna play~?” Ryan asks, smiling naughtily.

“Well, if you use that tone again, I promise we'll play~.” Shane says.

“Let's play, Daddy,” Ryan whispers lowly into Shane's ear. He kisses chastely down his neck and walks away.