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The night was eerily quiet that evening, Ryan thought. Not that it hadn’t always felt like something would jump out of his skin whenever he and his team went on creepy excursions such as this one, he just felt how much more unsettling it was tonight than all his previous trips.
It made Ryan’s already worried mind spike up his anxiety more, feeling like a caged animal with all his hackles raised and alert. It was grating and evermore exhausting. Luckily he’s got Shane on his back to look out for him. Ryan has always loved how his best friend’s presence and calm demeanor always manage to comfort him. He wouldn’t admit it aloud but he’s glad he has the skeptical man be there alongside his believing tendencies to balance it all out. If he weren’t, Ryan honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he lost his mind doing the show by this point.
Ryan took slow and steady breaths, counting from one to ten as he checked his on-hand equipment and over-head gear one more time, making sure all batteries were at full capacity and no magical broken parts appearing under everyone’s careful watch over them.
One strap on his side jiggles, shaking from the comforting clasp his co-host placed on his shoulder. “Ready to go?” Shane quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, being happy-go-lucky in demeanor but he knew the concern brewing under those warm eyes.
“Yep, just hoping the ghouls won’t come to bite me so soon.” Ryan sighs miserably yet steels himself in preparation to enter tonight’s abandoned hospital. Shane laughs heartily and lets his hand linger a bit more down Ryan’s arm. He tries not to focus on that too closely. “You’ll do great, Bergoose! Actually, maybe do terribly because the fans all love that!”
Ryan scowls up at him and begrudgingly trudges up the stone steps, Shane just behind him, grinning from ear to ear, and TJ and the rest of the crew trailing both of them.
As Ryan recounted the history of the area, he didn’t feel any more better than earlier. Its tragedy had begun in the 1900s, as tragic backstories do, when the hospital housed hundreds or even thousands of patients caring for the ill and the poor who couldn’t afford higher-quality medical services. The healthcare institution was surprisingly at peace with mostly no life-threatening events or emotional disparity taking place at that time. That is, until the fatal fire that engulfed the whole building in 1971, killing most people by getting burned alive.
A weary resignation clouded over all of them as they walked past the dozens of silent corridors. If he focused more intently, Ryan could almost see signs of the burned remains on most corners they passed through, the only evidence that signified what had happened before from over a decade ago.
“There was a popular theory that a man by the name of Owen Santiago was the one who burned the whole place down, unclear if he did it on purpose or not. Though they do know his motive might’ve been one of the patients, his wife, who was one of the few with a life-threatening illness and was told there was no hope of curing the disease.”
“Yikes…”
“Yeah,” Ryan mumbled. “And then there’s another theory from that which explains what pushed him to cause the fire in the first place.” Ryan paused, glancing out a shattered window and seeing the twinkling lights of a still-lively North Carolina even in the dead of night. “People speculate that his spouse isn’t a wife at all, being Olivia Santiago, and instead was named Oliver, and they thought it made more sense to seek revenge like that after being denied the care Oliver needed after finding out about their ‘true relationship’.” Ryan grimly stated while air-quoting, glancing back at his partner who was looking disgusted.
“So you’re telling me those bigoted pieces of shits didn’t properly take care of what-could-be Oliver!? Well fuckin’ serves them right!” Shane scoffed as his screams echoed out of the narrow darkness in front of them.
“This was a little after the Stonewall Riots too, so while the times were a bit more progressive than what it was like a century ago, it was still only by a margin.” Ryan maneuvered his flashlight around the dank walls, seeing a couple of vandalized areas, more shattered pieces of glass, and piles of rubble, yet the building was surprisingly cleared for people like Ryan and Shane to explore the area without supervision. Ryan flashed the light onto Shane’s face, which just made him make outrageously crazy and weird faces, causing him to sputter a laugh.
Ryan coughed out a wheeze, trying to calm himself down, and glaring at his co-host’s amused grin. “C’mon, let’s check out the room that started it all.”
He led them all to a floor one level higher than earlier—without scaring himself one more time from the sounds of rustling leaves outside, subsequently being laughed at by everyone and Shane—before coming to a door numbered as ‘1969’. Shane hummed and glanced disbelievingly at Ryan who simply smirked. “The room number which held Olivia-slash-Oliver just made the Oliver theory stronger.” He stated cheekily before sobering up to stare in trepidation at the old door in front of him.
Shane harrumphed and reached forward to grab the door handle. “Gentlemen first?” Ryan glared up at the taller man and Shane chuckled. “Alright, alright, fine then.” He turned to the camera directed towards them and smiled conspiratorially. “This is it fellow shaniacs and boogaras! Ryan’s first missed chance of seeing billowing curtains disguised as devilish spirits!”
Ryan rolled his eyes, right before Shane immediately pushed the door wide open and was then engulfed in darkness.
Ryan came to with an insistent pain in his temple. He groaned, shakily sitting up from where he was on the grimy floor, bringing a hand to hold his head. What happened? Ryan looked around. He was in some random dark hallway, increasing his trepidations. He stared in confusion and fear, before suddenly remembering this was the last place he and Shane had stood before blacking out.
Ryan blinked hard, glancing to his side, and could almost see the blurry outline of a door on the wall. He slowly kneeled to shakily carry himself up. The rusted-out placard bolted to the door glinting under the scarce light. This is crazy, he thought. Where was TJ and the rest of the team? He looked around some more but was helpless to find nothing but the dim brightness of the corridor.
Chills were crawling up his skin; sweat building up on his palms. He knew what he needed to do, yet he was scared out of his mind to move on with it. How many times had he relied on Shane’s comforting words and touch to face his fears? How many countless times did his nightmares stop because of them? He’d received so much praise from people for his bravery and courage in doing the things that constantly frightened him, and yet he knew that it wasn't true at all, not when Shane was genuinely the braver one out of both of them.
A bang echoed out from behind room 1969, and Ryan froze.
Instincts told him to run, run far away, and lengthen the distance between him and this godforsaken building with all the ghosts, monsters, and demons out to get him, wanting to slice his throat open until he bleeds out, cherishing in his pain. He can’t hear anything, not his ragged breath, or his rapid footsteps on the floor, but just the jumbled voices of demented laughter following him, creeping up at him, overshadowing him, and making him fall off at the brink of insanity—
And Shane could be in danger.
He abruptly stops, knees shaking as he holds onto the slab walls. He- He had to get back. Back towards that scary room which could be holding a terrified Shane right at this moment under those monsters’ cruel hands.
So Ryan broke into a sprint. Back directly towards room 1969 and frantically looked every which way for something he could use.
There was a lot of rubble on almost every corner he passed through. Maybe he could throw some rocks at these fuckers?
He stutters to a stop near the door and impulsively hurls himself towards it.
It didn’t budge.
Panicked, he hurriedly grabbed and twisted the door handle yet its hinges still wouldn’t open.
Another loud bang reverberated through, making him flinch.
Cursing, Ryan looked around again and spotted a rusty old pipe looking like it was nearly about to fall off the ledge, so he ran to grab it, pried it off the windowsill, and hurled his whole body weight one more time toward the room. It creaks, and then he tries again and again, praying that he won’t get there too late until the door finally bursts open.
The room was in a disastrous array of mess. Two chairs were upturned, a small, old-style bedside table had one-fourth of its wood torn off, and Ryan thought what should've been a hospital bed at the far corner was now flipped under itself by the wall, smashed pieces of shattered glass scattered on the floor from where the metal footboard hit a window’s glass pane.
“Shane!?”
Yet all of that was insignificant in the face of what Ryan first saw right before him. He thought he was imagining things, being passed out and deeply unconscious, he thought reasonably. But nothing could erase what would haunt him in his dreams for eternity, watching in disbelief as a dark, shadowed silhouette of a shape crowded around on top of Shane.
The figure sharply turned its head and now four, dark obsidian eyes were on him.
Ryan almost stumbled back, a wave of what felt like fucking horrible energy flowing through- almost making him want to puke. Wisps of a plasma-like substance emanated around the whole creature’s figure, with its spindly arms and legs, and a bulbous head attached to a mangled tree branch for a neck.
He was frozen once again, now immensely petrified, until the demon screeched a piercing sound, sounding hurt and angered. Ryan looked back to the side and it felt like being slapped from the sheer furiousness on Shane’s face, those furrowed, brown crusty eyes now entirely a bright and pupil-less glowing red, his mouth open and enraged.
Shane had pierced the demon on its side with a dagger.
Ragged and breathing heavily, Shane was using his whole muscle power to wrestle the creature down, all while turning those frantic eyes at him, once pupil-less and now a small, stark white.
“Ryan, run!!”
And so he did. He sprinted back out the door and into the endless corridors of the sanatorium.
He couldn’t think. He doesn't know anything but the creature—a demon-like being that was looming over Shane just then. And Shane himself suddenly being not who he thinks he is. So he ran, ran far away from his fears, and far away to wherever his legs could take him. Demons now actually exist yet what did he do? Be too much of a coward to face it.
Ryan didn’t know how long he sped past around the hallways and identical-looking rooms, but he was beginning to realize how lost he made himself out to be, causing a dizzy spell as he turned to look at every side of him, searching for a way out. He can’t even tell which way the room Shane was in. And all he wanted at that moment was for Shane to come back, to hold him so gently and soothe all his worries away. Back to where they’d have fun exploring the mysteries of haunted places, late-night celebrations with the Watcher team, blaming Steven for everything, dicking out with the crazy ‘ol Professor, and doing it all with Shane looking at him with that bright smile and expressively happy eyes.
He collapsed on the ground, shivering on his side from the harsh coldness of the cement floor. All his energy had seemed to seep out of him, leaving him to uselessly lie there. Ryan wasn’t able to comprehend the wetness that now continuously fell under his eyes, only the chaotically mixed emotions of fear and melancholy dominating his inner space. He whimpers, the inexplicable feeling of missing Shane paralyzing him to the bone.
He hadn’t realized he was shakily calling out for the man until incomprehensible shouts breached his ears. He wanted to move; get out while he could in case the demon went out to find and finish him, yet his limbs all felt numbly pliant and uncooperative.
Ryan could feel the sounds coming closer, so he forced himself to get up, shake his legs awake, and break into another messy sprint.
He knew he didn't know where he was going, yet it was better than waiting around to get mauled, and if his stupidity just led him right towards the lion’s den then so be it, at least he could die trying.
Despite his clouded vision, he tried to go towards the signs of exit from as many of the memories he could remember, past familiar vandalism and windows, stairwells, and walls, until he collided with a solid structure. A body, he panics. And no, not a demon, to his relief. He feels the soft texture of a hoodie, and the confusing scent of pillows that he always steals from—
“Shane.”
Ryan springs unfrozen and immediately comes to wrap him in a tight embrace, Shane doing the same. “You're okay, you're okay, okay…” He continues to babble relentlessly like an omen. His hands go everywhere around Shane’s arms, shoulders, and hands— grasping onto them with a sense of urgency. Genuinely concerned eyes meet Ryan’s frantic gaze as Shane softly calmed him down with soothing words as ragged breaths started to slow.
“It’s okay, Ryan, I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry…” Shane cooed down at him softly, gently smoothing down Ryan’s hair and holding their heads close, relishing in the relieving warmth of feeling each other’s presence.
So many emotions were bubbling up in Ryan at that moment. Relief that he’s safe, happiness that he’s come back to him again, and love for the man that he had just come to realize the magnitude Shane Madej has in his life.
Past all the events, interactions, and moments together, Ryan knew from then on how important he was in his life, who has always latched onto him no matter how hard he tried and made himself a home straight through his heart.
So without a second thought, he leaned in, and he’s never felt more home.