Strange // Ryllon

eight

There was no moment I purposely let it change. I told myself I'll distance myself from Dallon, and for a while I was, but now I'm snuggled into him, wearing his sweater as the blankets are pulled up a little past my lips, and his arms are around me. It's platonic, we essentially agreed on that, but I've never felt so tired yet comfortable in my whole life.

"How are you feeling?" He asks me.

"I think worse," I say quietly, not opening my eyes. My face is just about completely nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He doesn't mind, and if I'm honest, I don't at all.

Turns out sitting outside at night while only wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans and still shower-wet for a few hours, very little sleep and food for the past two weeks, and overworking on top of all of that is enough to get you sick and give you a 102.4 fever. He gave me pain meds that have begun to make me feel loopier than I was already feeling from the fever, but now he has basically trapped me into this wonderful snuggle session that has been going on for hours. I'll give it to him, he's really comfortable. 

"Is there anything else I can do?" He asks me. I gasp and jump up, head spinning and warmth beginning to leave.

"I have to go," I mumble, but I swear it was gonna be clear when I first began to speak.

"What?" Dallon asks, sitting up. It takes me a few seconds to let the room stop spinning.

"Lunch, I-... I promised Jon I'd go to lunch with him and Brendon and Spencer," I say, almost panicked.

"You're high on pain meds and have a horrible fever, you aren't going anywhere," he says.

"What if I go?"

"I'm not letting you go."

"What are you gonna do, kiss me?" 

Dallon tenses a bit. I weakly blink a few times.

"What?"

"What?" I repeat his question.

"Do... do you want me to kiss you?"

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

"Do you?"

"Do you?" I repeat again. "3... 2..."

He waits, but I frown.

"What am I counting for again?" I ask.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" Dallon asks.

"We're really close," I say quietly, noting how close our faces are. I close my eyes, mumbling a quiet, "My eyes hurt."

"Do you want me to pull away?" He asks, and now I'm realizing that this is serious. Our faces are a few inches away, he's being serious.

I shake my head hesitantly, half of me saying to push him away whilst the other half is telling me to kiss him already. I shouldn't want him. Fuck, I really shouldn't want him, but I do. I do want him. I want him a lot. 

Fuck.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asks quietly and softly, hands landing above my hips. I nod, eyes still closed.

"Kiss me," I say. I feel our noses brush together. Stop it, Ryan. Pull away, push him away, you don't like him, stop it.

Dallon pulls away, beating me to it, and my heart sinks slightly with either fear or disappointment. Fear, definitely fear. I'm not fucking sad we didn't kiss. After all, I don't like him like that.

"No, no, we... we can't, you-... you're not necessarily... sober, and I don't want you to do something you regret, so... we can't do this. Not now," he tells me. 

"Oh," I say quietly, looking down. He doesn't want to. Got it.

"Let's lay down and we can watch a movie or something, okay?" He asks, taking my hands. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," I tell him, and so he lays down and has me lay with him, pulling the blankets back up, and then we are in our original position.