paparazzi // ryllon

chapter six

I can't get the image of Ryan smiling at me out of my head. I've known this kid for not even a week and he seems to be the only topic on my mind. He's really pretty and cute and sweet and gentle. He isn't afraid to voice what's really on his mind, but at the same time, he doesn't care what others think of him. He doesn't believe those nasty rumors about me, he somehow knows what is true and what isn't.

We're still laying in the same position. We're onto the third High School Musical now, he's still snuggled into me, it's late, Ryan is still snuggling with me, we've been watching movies for hours, and Ryan Ross is still snuggling with me.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower," I inform him, so he tiredly sits up. He yawns when I sit up and I smile, because that's really cute. I stand, but then lean down and kiss his cheek. I turn and leave, walking upstairs with a smile. I think he's too tired to even think about if what just happened was real or not.

I close the door, turn the fan and shower on, and undress. I step inside, running my hands through my now wet hair. All I can think of is Ryan. He's gorgeous, I know that because I spent a long time staring at him today. I keep thinking of Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Me and Ryan, smiling and laughing and eating ice cream in town. Just us in this house alone. No cameras, no rumors, no managers, no fans, just me and Ryan. I have to remember once again that Ryan's a fan. He doesn't feel like that. More like a mysterious friend. But not a friend either, just... crush? Like my mysterious crush boy.

I could fall in love with him, only if he'd like me too. He probably does. Most likely. He knows the good parts of me, he doesn't know about my heartbreaks, my breakdowns, my many anger breaks. He doesn't know why I really needed to come here.

He's special.

He doesn't even feel like a fan to me. He's not like other fans, that is. He doesn't try to impress me, he doesn't try to get in my pants, he doesn't try to get me to like him, he doesn't obey and praise every single thing I say, but he'll leave if I tell him to. He's amazing.

I really could fall in love with him.

I turn the water off and hum a bit, then freeze. I hum the random tune again, then start quietly singing some lyrics that come to mind. My eyes widen and I get dressed quickly, turn everything off, then run to the studio room. I grab my notebook, the one I don't think I've written in for about 3 months. I open it up, flipping to a new page and write every single lyric that comes to mind.

I eventually get a whole chorus written, then other lines, and soon I have a whole song with a good catchy tune. My eyes are wide. I wrote a song. One whole year of not having anything to write about, I wrote something. My mind is racing, it's like a whole cluster fuck of emotions, but warm and soft, purely happy thoughts of him. A cluster hug.

Cluster Hug.

I write that at the top of the finished paper, then run to the phone. There's two in this house. I memorized Vicky's number. I dial it and it rings, and rings, and rings.

"Why the fuck are you calling me at 4 in the morning? I know it's only 7 here, but that's no excuse," Vicky groans on the other end.

"I wrote a song," I say excitedly. I hear her immediately backpedaling on that 'no excuse'.

"Finally, holy shit!" Vicky screams, and I smile wide.

"I know, I... I was just... wow, I wrote something! One year of nothing, I finally get something!"

"I knew that beach house was a good idea!" she says happily. I smile wide.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna actually get the music recorded and stuff."

"Cool, you do that. Proud of you, Dallon."

And I smile, because for once in a really long time, I am too.