does he feel the same? (shyan) (COMPLETE)

Chapter 7 - does he feel the same?

Ryan's POV

My hands are shaking as I hang up the phone. I am giddy with nerves and excitement, and the three shots I did before I was brave enough.

My feelings for Shane have been... complicated, to say the least. I always thought he was beautiful, and then he kissed me that night and my heart stopped dead in my chest. It was the first time I realised that I was truly in love with my best friend.

But then I fucking ruined whatever could have happened between us.

I iced him out, for days. 

I am just so fucking scared that this man - this beautiful, kind, funny man who makes my heart beat faster whenever I see him - doesn't have any feelings for me.

So that's why I'm drunk. Because I know I'll never be happy until I find out one way or another, and I know I'll never ask him if I'm sober.

So I called him, invited him to my apartment, and now I am sitting on my ass and dreaming as I wait for him to arrive. I loved the feeling of his lips on mine, how his body seemed to fit mine perfectly when I pulled him closer. I've always known I liked guys, but I thought it was something I could ignore until I fisted my hands in his hair and kissed him like the world depended on it.

That's why I panicked so much afterwards - years of suppression and hiding who I am meant I freaked out after the best kiss of my life. But now its time to fix this mess. It's time to tell Shane how I really feel.

Speaking of, where is Shane? He should have been here five minutes ago at the latest. I get up to peer out the window, and see the flashing lights of some ambulance down the street. Some poor guy's been hit by a car.

 A bolt of panic spears into my chest.

Fuck.

No. No. Ryan. You're being stupid, of course it's not Shane, don't be stupid. You're just freaking out like you always do, just because someone who looks vaguely like Shane is being wheeled into the ambulance. Just chill out, Shane's probably late because he forgot his coat, or dropped his phone, or -

I have to go down and check.

I sprint down the fire escape of my apartment, ignoring honking cars as I run down the road to the ambulance.

'Sir, please stay back.' A burly paramedic tries to push me away.

I am too scared to speak, terrified that I might recognise the unconscious man in the ambulance. The paramedic must see my shock, because he lets me through to look. The sirens are blaring, and people are shouting and the lights are flashing and -

It's Shane.

It's him. The only man I've ever loved, and I never even plucked up the courage to fucking tell him. His hair is unruly, and his usually grinning face is slack. 

I lunge towards the ambulance, sobs wracking my body. I grab Shane's hand and hold it to my chest, cupping his face with my palm. 

'Oh Shane,' I whisper, 'What have you done?'

I am dimly aware of crying, of a man helping me into the ambulance. I barely register the ambulance speeding to the hospital. The only thing I say is Shane's name, over and over like a prayer.

When we reach the hospital, I can't bear to let go of his hand.

'Sir, we need to take him. He's going to be fine, but you have to let go.' I nod, numb with shock and spent from crying. Its easy for them to force his hand out of mine. 

I feel cold and anchorless without him. I let them take him away, but I didn't want to let go.