paparazzi // ryllon

chapter two

Ryan sits on the beach calmly, swallowing the lump in his throat. Despite the relaxing waves and calming air, his heart is speeding up.

Calm down, calm down, breathe.

He forces himself to relax, and after some time, he does. Then. Then, after a simple second of returning anxiety and an aching head, it's ocean waves, dangerous waves, and a bird squawks loudly, and he jumps horribly. With a disappointed sigh, Ryan slowly lifts himself from the sand, dusting himself off.

"Relax, Ryan," he whispers. He slowly goes up the steps and makes his way towards his beach house. Someone had just moved in behind him, into the bigger house. He hasn't gotten the chance to introduce himself.

He seems to be doing fine now that he's off the meds, he can see that himself, but he curses the moments like now where he still feels like he's about to have an anxiety attack.

Ryan continues walking, looking down to avoid letting the view of what's in front of him overwhelm his senses. Get home fast, that's all that's running through his mind. To ease himself, he very quietly hums a song that belongs to the boy about 20 feet away, too looking down, but only to avoid the chance of him being seen.

Their bodies collide and Ryan feels it all come crashing down. He looks up, his heart sinks, his eyes widen and Dallon realizes.

"You... you're... Dallon Weekes..."

"Shit," Dallon whispers, sighing. "Listen, I just-"

Ryan doesn't let him finish, though, as he loses consciousness and falls. Dallon fails to catch him, causing him to hit his head on a rock. He kneels down, his hoodie covering his head.

He shakes him, moves him, slaps him, anything he can do to get him to wake up. Ryan's breathing, he's fine, but he won't wake up. Dallon shakes his head in annoyance and picks him up bridal-style. Luckily, Ryan's super light and Dallon is quite strong. An easy coincidence.

Dallon carries him all the way to his beach house, which isn't far, muttering quietly, "I can't believe I'm doing this." The rain has begun to gently patter down as Dallon kicks the door closed with his foot. He brings Ryan up to the third floor; the floor where Dallon's room is.

Dallon lays him down on the blood red duvet, grabbing a towel that hangs on a chair nearby and puts it under his head where he hit it. Dallon pulls his black hood down as he stares at the sleeping boy. He has wavy brown hair that is slightly shaggy but not very long. He has clear, smooth skin, and his cheeks and nose are a bit red from the cold. Dallon removes his brown boots, placing them neatly on the ground in front of the bed.

He feels like he's going insane, and he's only been in this house for two days. Vicky's definitely settled at her home in New York City. Not somewhere near Lincoln City, Oregon with someone who's obviously a fan. Ryan could've stalked Dallon, for all he knows.

Dallon swallows and leaves the room, turning left and wandering down the small hallway. He'll calm down. All else fails, he could bribe him. He will probably have to. That, or leaving, but a shame, he had just settled in comfortably.

Dallon shakes the thoughts from his head, blinking twice once reaching the bottom of the stairs.

It'll be fine.