care >> brohm

(home)

Over the next week Ryan had trouble falling asleep, and for the next month he had recurring dreams about what had transpired that one night. He'd determined the original event to be a strangely vivid dream, not incredibly abnormal for him, even though this one felt fairly different from the rest. It was the only explanation he felt made sense, and therefore the only one he let stand.

By the time the month had passed and the dreams faded to weekly at most (dreams of smiles and sunshine and a squeaky laugh that made him feel full of missed opportunity when he woke), he'd largely stopped thinking about it. Work was busy, his office job was a nine-to-five but not so much with the recent downsizing, and he had bigger thoughts on his plate. Rent hadn't been tight for a while, but for some reason it was getting tighter and his stress was growing.

Six months flew by. Ryan turned twenty-seven on an early summer day that he spent at work, and then in the evening with a few friends he didn't spend nearly enough time with, but beyond that the six months were uneventful. His position at work survived the downsizing (thank every heaven above, he thought regularly, and then forgot to think), and days returned to normal. It was August now, and it had been a long day on the job (when wasn't it?),and he was ready to get home and eat a quick dinner before wasting his evening in front of a tv, as he tended to do.

He felt it outside his apartment, as he exited his car and stared at the familiar building in front of him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what "it" was, but it was something strong. The sensation of- not wrongness, exactly, but something strange and unusual. To say it was the product of sixth sense wouldn't exactly be true. Ryan believed in such a thing, of course, he was a superstitious person who didn't like messing with things that shouldn't be messed with, and off feelings were something he generally included in that. But the feeling, despite its unfamiliarity, was incredibly familiar and similarly, despite his unease he didn't feel uncomfortable.

The door to the apartment complex popped open just as easily as it should and the walk upstairs seemed slower than normal, every nerve hyper-aware of his surroundings, until he reached the door of his own home. There weren't danger alarm bells ringing, but there was something in the back of his mind that told him to remain on his toes.

A simple click gained him entry and he stepped inside, setting his work bag on the kitchen counter and kicking off his uncomfortable shoes he'd spent too many hours in. The curtains were closed, and though he could have sworn he'd opened them before leaving that morning he opened them again without too much worry. Across the room, the couch creaked and he froze, still, before finally turning the around.

His heart kickstarted when he saw a familiar face staring back at him, blue eyes full of interest and strange happiness.

"Where were you?" Bryce questioned him in a manner that was almost scolding, making Ryan blink as though it would clear the situation he was facing. "You were out forever, I thought for sure you were never coming back."

Gathering ahold of himself, Ryan only shook his head and withdrew his phone from his pocket. "I'm calling the police."

Bryce shook his head, almost pouting, and climbed to his feet so fast Ryan hardly registered it- and suddenly, his phone was in Bryce's hand. "I told you it would be funny if you did," he reminded, as Ryan's sense of panic grew. "But honestly, I don't want to cause you trouble, which is all that would come out of you calling them here."

Stunned, it took a moment for Ryan's words to come out. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, hearing the waiver in his voice and hating it.

Bryce sighed as though he were frustrated, turning across the room and sitting on the couch again. "Don't be so dramatic, Ryan. I'm not threatening you, I don't want to hurt you, I really am trying to help."

There was an awkward silence until Ryan stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside the couch with caution. "Why are you stalking me? How are you even getting in here?"

Bryce laughed, light and amused. "I'm not stalking you, silly. That'd be mean, and bad, and I do have a life, y'know."

Ryan didn't miss the fact he hadn't answered the second question, and called him out on it. "How do you get in my house?"

Bryce shrugged, a motion that was nearly full-bodied with his large shoulders. "Magic, of course." It was obvious teasing and sarcasm, and Ryan really didn't appreciate it.

"Who are you, then?"

"Bryce," Bryce said slowly, as though talking to a small child with a memory deficiency. "I told you that last time."

"What do you want from me?" Ryan asked, more flatly this time, his patience thoroughly crossed.

Now, he appeared to have caught Bryce by surprise. "I... don't? Want anything? Why? I don't think I've acted like I need something, right?"

Ryan felt exasperated, looking at this strange man sitting on his couch like he belonged there. It was weird, and more than a little creepy, and he felt incredibly uncomfortable with this situation to say the very least. "I want you to leave me alone, please."

Bryce frowned. "... But I don't want that."

"Why?" Ryan demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

Bryce shrugged again. "I guess I like you. You seem like a nice person. You're reasonable."

"You don't even know me," Ryan said, shaking his head in exasperation, now walking to his kitchen. He had a home phone hooked up in there for emergencies, and he figured this qualified enough.

"I want to!" Bryce insisted, sitting upright and watching Ryan walk away. "Wait, hang on, I didn't mean to freak you out." He sounded genuinely upset, and Ryan almost felt bad for him, with a heavy emphasis on the almost.

"Just get out of my house," he ordered, looking back at Bryce and offering the man his last chance before he was removed forcibly. Bryce looked back at him, with goddamn puppy eyes, and then nodded very slowly.

"Okay," he said, and vanished on the spot.