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It was four o’ clock on a much-deserved Friday at the Buzzfeed LA office. Ryan and Shane, co-hosts of Buzzfeed Unsolved, were shut in their little set, having just wrapped a season of True Crime episodes. “Jesus Christ, it’s finally over,” Ryan said, putting his head down on the table in front of him. The crew begins to pack up but the boys just sit at the table, reeling. “How long have we been filming?” Shane asks, “Whatever it was, it was way too long. I need to sleep for a week.” “Hear, hear.” Ryan’s head still rests on the table, and his eyes flutter open and closed. Ryan’s gaze finally comes to rest on Shane’s face, tracing his features. Shane really does look exhausted, but in kind of a mussed up, haven’t slept in days, cute way. Not that Ryan would ever let it slip to Shane that he thinks so. It’s not like Ryan has had a massive crush ever since the two had met, and it’s certainly not like Ryan had ever lain awake at night thinking about the laugh Shane saves for only him, the one where Shane grabs at his shirt and crinkles the sides of his eyes. And Ryan definitely hasn’t used Shane’s cocky self-confidence in the worst of situations to get himself off hours after the fact. That’s never happened. And Ryan has really never looked up at Shane in the middle of a shoot and imagined what would happen if Shane would just lean down a little and close the space between Ryan’s emptiness and himself. All of that having never happened, Ryan sits in the present moment with his stare fixated on the zenith of Shane’s cheekbone and how it curves down toward his lips. They sit in this homeostasis, Shane zoned out and Ryan staring (in no way wantingly), until the crew had left completely, and even then, they only snapped out of it when Kelsey, a coworker, opens the door, knocking on the door jamb. “Hey you guys,” she says, knocking them out of their shared dissociation, “we have a few extra company tickets to the Taylor Swift concert tonight, wanna go?” Ryan looks at Shane for an answer, but finds this futile when he realizes Shane was doing the same. “Uh… yeah? Yeah, sure,” Ryan said, still quite honestly dazed. “Yeah, not reason not to, right?” Shane said, fading back into consciousness and shrugging. Why do I feel like this is a terrible idea? Thought Ryan. It feels wrong. ~~ Before three hours had passed, the boys and what seemed like half their office were in a massive line outside Rose Bowl stadium. The crowd tittered excitedly, and everyone seemed to be revelling in anticipation of the event yet to come. Ryan looked at the crowd around him, and his eye was drawn to a couple standing near the back of the line. This girl was wearing a dress that made her look like the goddess Aphrodite herself, and her boyfriend looked like he could’ve stepped off the fold-out page of a Calvin Klein catalogue. He ripped his eyes away. He tried to focus his attention elsewhere and in a way he succeeded, but his new subject only made the weight hanging around his neck heavier. A very clearly gay couple was in the next line over. One of the men planted a kiss on the other’s cheek, and, God, how close was Ryan to tears at that point. Everyone around him was here with the people they love, and here’s Ryan: attending a Taylor Swift concert with basically all his colleagues and guys totally platonic, not-at-all-life-ruiningly-desirable best friend. A pebble settled on the riverbed floor of Ryan’s heart. While working for Buzzfeed has its flaws, Ryan must say, it certainly has its perks too. Floor tickets at a Taylor Swift concert in Los Angeles must be upwards of a thousand dollars’ worth, not to mention the free stadium beer. Ryan and Shane took the seats on the corner of the massive rectangle of people comprising the floor. They sat down, Shane posted an Instagram story of the concert, Ryan zoned out for a while and only zoned back in when the opening act was announced: Ed Sheeran. He played all his usual pop hits: Shape of You, Thinking Out Loud, Photograph, but closed with a smaller, more intimate number. As its opening hi-hat tiff s and guitar chords began, the crowd began to sway, and by the time the pre-chorus rolled around, a lump had formed in Ryan’s throat.
I could fall, I could fly, here in your aeroplane
The realization that he and Shane were swaying in unison hit Ryan like a ton of bricks.
I could live, I could die, hanging on the words you say
Damn, how Ryan wanted to reach down and grab his hand.
I’ve been known to give my all, lie awake, every day, don’t know how much I can take
A tear escaped Ryan’s eye. The girls in front of him took each other’s hands.
So don’t call me baby, unless you mean it
Ryan bit his lip. Hard. He could taste blood, but he couldn’t decide whether a little self-injury was better or worse than sobbing in front the man he was sobbing about He’s so perfect. Ryan looked up at him in the light of thousands of light-up concert bracelets, and how is it that every time he sees him, it’s a thousand times better than the time before? Mathematically, it shouldn’t work. The rest of the concert went better, the hyped up energy around Taylor’s appearance masquerading any of Ryan’s misguided and over-expressed emotions about his bestfriendcrushloveofhislife. A song came on Ryan didn’t immediately recognize, but liked the beginning instrumental of.
Our secret moments, in a crowded room
They got no idea, about me and you
Not quite as relatable, but painful nonetheless. Ryan wished he had that with Shane.
All of the silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you, ah ah ah
Ryan’s hands not might have been shaking, but, goddamn if his lip wasn’t. He thought of the few years he’s known Shane. The relationships he’s seen him cycle through without him. The dates Shane had told him about that he wasn’t on the reciprocating end of. He thought of every clue he’d ever given the dumbass he decided to fall head over heels for. It wasn’t sadness anymore, it wasn’t neglect, it wasn’t even longing that Ryan was feeling. It was anger, pure and unadulterated. The universe owes him something. Owes him his Shane. By the second chorus, Ryan was screaming the song like he’d heard it a thousand times before.
Say my name and everything just stops
I don’t want you like best friend
He shrieked the words. Tears heated up his face and the already dark room became darker.
Carve your name into my bedpost
Cause I don’t want you like a best friend
Ryan head throbbed and he could swear his vision was going. He sat down and ran his hands through his sweaty hair. Shane cast a downward glance at him and the air left Ryan’s lungs so suddenly he could’ve sworn he died right then. Rather than let Shane get a good look at him, he stood up and dashed out of the arena, not looking back. He ran up at least nineteen flights of stairs, or however many it took him to get the uppermost, most abandoned level. He sat, back to a concrete wall for at least four songs. He tried to steady the heaves that thrust his back against the cold wall behind him, and only succeeds after at least fifteen minutes. Every time he tries to think of something other than the crushing weight of his love for the boy he will never get. He sticks his head between his knees and desperately tries to remember every calming breathing tutorial he ever scrolled past on his Instagram explore page. The room spins and so does Ryan’s stomach. He feels empty, so he stuffs anger down his throat and calls it a meal. How humiliating is it to have a pop concert be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Footsteps pad their way up the staircase and Ryan doesn’t have to look to know who it is. He briefly considers throwing himself off the balcony, but that seems like it would take a lot of energy that he doesn’t have. Shane comes to rest opposite Ryan, against another cold unfinished wall. Shane looks at Ryan for what seems like an eternity before saying, “Hey, are you okay?” Ryan leaves a silence, partly because he’s upset (and childish), partly because what do you say the man you just had a panic attack about when he asks your if you’re okay? “I…” Ryan stands up in a desperate attempt to fill dead air. Shane follows and leans in, an arm on Ryan’s upper arm. The spot burns and Ryan almost flinches from how exquisitely painful to have this man touch him like this, but he’d rather die than shake it off. What the thought process inside Ryan’s head was when he pulled this next stunt is unknowable, save for whatever Gods and entities were listening, and maybe Ryan himself, although even that’s questionable. Ryan reached his arms up, twined his fingers under the collar of Shane’s button-up, pulled him close, and , without hesitation, pressed their lips together. Shane almost pulled away in shock at first, but eventually he moved back into Ryan and pushed himself into the kiss. He wished all his unsaid words would be pushed right into Ryan’s head with the kiss. Warmth blossomed in Ryan’s stomach, the tightness in his chest releasing. He practically licked the adrenaline off Shane’s lips. Shane gently placed his hands on Ryan’s ribs. They must’ve looked like crazed teenagers, kissing in the empty parts of a concert. Ryan caught the lyrics of a song through the doors of the sections.
They say I did something bad
Then why’s it feel so good?
Ryan pulled away from Shane’s face. Surprise was plastered across it. “I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, Shane, I shouldn’t have…” is all he could get out before his sobs over took him again. He took a step back and slid hits back down against the wall again. Shane crouched down in front of Ryan. Please, oh, please let me die right now, Ryan pleaded. Shane tucked a finger underneath Ryan’s chin and lifted it to meet his gaze. He took a pause like he was about to say something, but, after all, actions speak louder than words. Shane tried to imagine how strange it must look: one giant guy, kneeling on the concrete floor of a sports stadium, between the legs of a tiny crying dude, making out. Shane’s hands quickly found their way to Ryan’s hair, rubbing his thumbs over the short hair on the sides of his head. Ryan’s hands were bunched up in the back of Shane’s shirt, and tears were still streaming down his face, but they were tears of relief. The kiss felt how clean linen looks hanging on a drying rack. Shane had never been a particularly religious man, but if this is how the body and the blood tastes, he’ll pray a rosary every day for a hundred years. He wants this for hundred years, he wants it for more. This kiss could raise Lazarus from the dead like Sleeping Beauty. This is the kiss that would grow in the Eden, in the Gardens of Gethsemane, in the the land of milk and honey. Shane had entered the promised land and, God, he never wanted to leave. Ryan pulls out of the kiss ever so slightly, putting about six inches between his face and Shane’s. He didn’t dare move further away for fear of drifting out to sea and never returning. He held the back of Shan’s shirt like a ship’s mast in a storm, that is, for his life. They locked eyes and Ryan burst out laughing. He laughed like he was high. In truth, he kind of was. “Have you wanted that like I have?” He asked. “How?” “Forever.” Shane laughed. Then he stopped, if only to look at the man in front of him. Ryan sat braced on the floor in font of him, knees halfway up his chest, face glistening, both because it was wet and because he was glowing from the inside out. He was breathing heavy and red around the mouth. Nearly bruised, in all honesty. In short, beautiful. Ryan was the one to uneasily break the silence. “You did want that, right? You don’t just, I don’t know, feel sorry for me?” This time Shane really laughed. “No, God, no. That was amazing. I, well… I don’t think i wanted it in the same way as you,” he said, and before Ryan’s fear could spread past his eyes, he said, “Ryan, Ryan, I want it. I want you. You won’t ever have to worry about that. I just didn’t know what I wanted until I saw you tonight. I couldn’t stand seeing you in this state. No, don’t start crying again, that’s the exact oppo-“ “You buffoon.” Ryan pulled him in for another kiss, a short one that tasted like when the sun comes out in the middle of January. “Thank you.” They sat there, two fully- (and over-) grown men, on the floor of Rose Bowl stadium during a Taylor Swift concert, smiling like idiots. This is the part in a movie where the camera zooms out from above them and the screen fades to credits in a soft vignette while a song plays over-top. All was imagined, save the song. Muffled lyrics play from behind a nearby door.
Is this the end of all the endings?
My broken bones are mending
With all these nights we’re spending
Up one the roof with a school-girl crush
Drinking beer out of plastic cups
Say you fancy me
Baby, all at once this is enough