The Cities You Don't See
Title: The Cities You Don't See
Fandom: Swimming
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Eamon Sullivan
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: For metafic and beta by her as well. Takes place during the second week of the '08 Olympics.
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Ryan barely remembers how it started. Too many drinks and Eamon just looked so fucking sad. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, except that he kind of knew how Eamon felt. The promise of things working out that just somehow felt flat. And now they're stumbling past athletes neither of them know, people who don't give them a second glance and Ryan's glad he remembered to wear a hat. He pulls it down, almost covering his eyes as Eamon half-clings to him. He sort of drags Eamon toward the elevators, mostly because Eamon's decided to be the biggest pain in the ass. The wait is short and by the time the doors open on Ryan's floor, they're both not quite sober, but no longer stumbling drunk.
Eamon gives him a look as they step out into the hall, mumbling something about this not looking like his floor. Ryan can't help laughing, though it's more than a little strained. They all look the same, he says and Eamon rolls his eyes. They walk the rest of the way in silence, Ryan left to his own thoughts, wondering what possessed him to bring Eamon back to his room. Maybe it was the look on his face when he saw his ex-girlfriend with Mike. It could have been the way he sounded just like a kicked puppy and sometimes Ryan just can't help himself. Maybe it was the way they've both been fucked by Mike, though, Ryan thinks, not literally in Eamon's case. He almost smiles, but doesn't when he notices Eamon watching him. He shrugs and stops in front of his door.
He twists the key in the lock, pushing it open. Eamon brushes past and Ryan thinks that maybe he brought Eamon back because he's just that hot. He almost grins, but doesn't because he doesn't want to have to explain things. If he starts, he figures he's had just enough alcohol that he might just keep talking. And Ryan doesn't want to go there, not now. He's lost in thought, standing in the doorway and doesn't know that Eamon's watching him again. Eamon reaches out, fingers curling around Ryan's wrist and tugs, just gently. Ryan stumbles into his room, pulling his key out just before the door slams shut behind him.
I know about you and Phelps. Eamon's voice is soft, almost inaudible.
Ryan starts, looking over at Eamon. He doesn't quite know what to say. Sort of just stares at him, kind of surprised and embarrassed.
Eamon steps closer and Ryan thinks he's lost control of the situation before it ever started. I know you're still friends, Eamon says and Ryan doesn't bother to stop himself from resting his hands on Eamon's hips. But I think he's --
Ryan knows how that sentence ends and he doesn't want to hear it. Instead he leans in, bridging the short distance between them, and kisses Eamon hard. He's insistent, almost rough, but he's glad when Eamon doesn't resist. Tenses for a second, then kisses him back, rough and Ryan is temporarily thrown off balance because all he can think is more, please more. He wants more of this, of Eamon. He pulls back, just a fraction, looking at Eamon and opens his mouth to say something. Maybe to apologize or tell Eamon to go, but nothing comes out.
Eamon grins, an impish smile tinged with bitterness that Ryan feels but will never show. He steps forward, hand against Ryan's chest and kisses him again. Eamon's other hand slides up, pushing Ryan's hat the rest of the way off, fingers twisting in his hair. Ryan returns the kiss hungrily, practically shoving Eamon toward the wall. If Eamon wants to play, Ryan thinks, opening his mouth against Eamon's, they can play. Ryan knows he's good.
He shoves his knee between Eamon's legs, pressing against him and he's rewarded with a low moan. Grins against Eamon's mouth and does it again, harder this time. Eamon pushes his hands under the hem of Ryan's shirt, digging his nails into Ryan's hips. Ryan bites Eamon's bottom lip, tugging at it a little and Ryan thinks things are going to get out of hand and he finds he just can't be bothered to care.
Eamon jerks their bodies together, dislodging Ryan's knee. They're pressed close, Ryan's hips against Eamon's and he slides his hands down until he finds Eamon's wrists. Grabs them roughly, holding onto them as he deepens the kiss. Eamon arches against Ryan, thrusting and Ryan's hard through his shorts. Grinds back, feels Eamon hard and he smirks, just a little. But Eamon's moving against him, grinding harder and Ryan has to struggle to keep his hands on Eamon's wrists. In a swift movement, he lifts Eamon's arms above his head, pinning him against the wall. Hips pressing hard and Eamon doesn't struggle, doesn't even protest. Just sort of grins at Ryan and then strains forward, kissing him. Ryan sinks into the kiss, pouring a little too much of himself into it and he finds he has to stop.
He pulls back, dropping Eamon's hands, and leans against the far wall of the entrance hall. Eamon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving Ryan's.
Maybe I should ... Eamon trails off and Ryan shakes his head.
No. His voice is unbearably soft, but he can't make himself talk any louder. Stay. And then he's making his way toward the bed, back to Eamon. He waits for the door to shut, waits for Eamon to leave because he's made it awkward.
But there's nothing but silence, and then Eamon's hand on his back. Ryan wants to turn, tell him it's all in good fun and Mike doesn't mean anything by it. He wants to say that it was only sex with Mike, nothing more. He wants to go back to being the Ryan who doesn't care about anything or what anyone thinks. Because he never meant to get hurt, never meant to get so attached.
He turns and Eamon's watching him. He opens his mouth, trying to find something to say, but he never gets the chance. Eamon's mouth covers his and Ryan finds he has no desire to resist. Lets Eamon push him onto the bed, hands along his body. Pushing at his shirt, tugging it off and then his own. Ryan watches, then leans forward, biting at Eamon's chest, pulling him closer, sucking on one nipple, then the other and he thinks it's no longer a game. It's filling a need, something they've both lost. This won't fix it, but at least he thinks he can make himself stop thinking about it.
Eamon's hands slide down, along Ryan's chest, toward the top of his shorts. Ryan lifts his hips, letting Eamon's hands scrape lightly down his hips, pulling his shorts off. He shivers and leans forward, hooking his fingers over the top of Eamon's shorts and shoves. They come off easily and Eamon crawls over Ryan, settling down on top of him and somehow the only thing Ryan can think is that this works. He reaches out, fingers against Eamon's cheek, against the hint of a beard and then against the back of his neck. He pulls Eamon down, but not into a kiss. Mouth against his chest as Ryan half-sits. Then against the tattoo on his chest, biting hard. Eamon moans and Ryan slides his hand down, fingers against the base of Eamon's cock.
They both stop, Eamon looking all sorts of young and vulnerable. But then there's noise outside, people running down the hall and yelling and the moment passes. Eamon thrusts against Ryan's hand, pressing his own hand against Ryan's cock. Eamon leans in, mouth against Ryan's and presses their bodies roughly together, hands caught between them for a moment. Then it's Eamon's turn, Ryan's wrists in his hands, above his head, their bodes moving together. He hooks a leg over one of Eamon's, arching as their bodies come together. Eamon pins him to the bed, kissing him harder and Ryan loses himself, just a little, as the kiss deepens. The world spins around them, everything leaving except Eamon's mouth hot on his, their bodies twisted together.
Eamon freezes, stopping at the sound in the hall. Pounding on the door, but Ryan just shakes his head. Ignore it, he mouths and then shifts, purposefully aching his body against Eamon's as he reaches for the nightstand. Frees a condom from under the alarm clock and grabs the lube from behind the lamp. For a moment Eamon laughs, mouth open and no sound and Ryan can't help grinning too. The knocking on the door stops soon after and they're descending into the soft silence of the dorms.
Will you fuck me? Eamon asks, beating Ryan to the question.
Ryan grins, a little mischievously and nods. He almost says something stupid, like, how he was going to ask, but he doesn't. Instead he shoves Eamon off, crawling until he's on top. Looks down at Eamon and grins again, leaning forward and kissing him. Eamon's hand on his cock, stroking roughly and so he grabs Eamon's free hand, leaning back until he can pull it up, fingers against the tattoo on his wrist and then he bites. His eyes never leave Eamon's and the look on his face is worth all of this. He does it again, licking lightly and then pulls back, barely touching Eamon at all. Crawls between his legs, brushing his fingers against Eamon's cock, then grabs the lube off the bed.
He shifts forward, pushing Eamon's legs up, knees bent slightly. Reaches out with his free hand and runs his fingers along Eamon's hips, around his cock and then pulls back again. Squeezes lube onto his fingers and presses them against Eamon's ass. Holds his gaze, watching as he slides a finger in, twisting it just slightly. Eamon bites his bottom lip, shifting onto his elbows. It's hot, hotter than Ryan expects and he shivers. He slides two fingers in, making Eamon gasp and then Ryan grins, confidence back and Eamon swears at him as he reaches down, fingers around himself. Ryan watches, moving his fingers almost absently as he stares at Eamon's hand against his cock, stroking. He swallows hard, twists his fingers hard, making Eamon shudder and then pulling out.
Eamon whimpers and Ryan grins, smirking a little as he slides the condom on. More lube on his fingers, around his cock and Eamon's almost begging. He doesn't make him wait, doesn't even want to wait. Shifts forward, pushing against Eamon, lifting his legs up as he presses forward. Cock against Eamon's ass, thrusts and then slides in, slow then faster. Eamon drags his hands along Ryan's shoulders, one hand against his face and then up, into his hair. Twists his hands roughly and Ryan can't stop the moan. Eamon pulls at Ryan, bringing him in close and Ryan thrusts in deeper. He growls a little and Eamon kisses him hard, biting a little as he deepens the kiss.
Ryan thrusts harder, longing motions that draw noises from Eamon. He swallows them, straining against Eamon's fingers in his hair, only because he likes the way it fells. He presses their bodies closer together, only stopping his thrusts for a moment, just so he can slide his hand between them. Fingers around Eamon's cock and there's no way he'd stop this. Not now. Eamon shifts, taking Ryan in deeper. Slides his legs around Ryan, pulling roughly at his hair. Ryan moans again, a little louder and if he wasn't so far into this, so fucking gone, he'd be embarrassed. But he can't be, because he kind of loves this.
He thrusts harder, closer than he means, but he can feel Eamon close under him. He bites at Eamon's mouth, his turn to be rough. Braces himself with his free hand, the other moving against and around Eamon's cock. They move, arching and thrusting, not quite together, but enough that Ryan knows neither of them is going to last much longer. He shudders first, gasping against Eamon's mouth. But it's Eamon who comes first, whimpering as his body tightens, squeezing around Ryan, fingers still tight in his hair. He comes hard, shuddering and almost shaking.
Eamon's legs tighten around Ryan, pulling him in deep and Ryan thrusts hard. Ryan shudders, body shaking like Eamon's and then he comes hard. Mouth on Eamon's, moans sliding out of him. He groans a little, suddenly drained. Eamon's hand in his hair changes, no longer pulling but stroking. Ryan leans back, but not far. Just enough so he can pull out, strip the condom off and drop it in the trash, all without dislodging Eamon's hand from his hair. He crawls back over, but not on top of him. They lie there in the darkness, Eamon's fingers moving on Ryan's hair and his hands on Eamon's chest.
She broke my heart. Eamon's voice is a whisper and Ryan looks up, but doesn't reply. He broke yours, voice softer now, gentler.
Ryan shakes his head, but Eamon tugs lightly at his hair. Doesn't say anything, but pulls him forward. Kisses him gently and Ryan returns the kiss, rougher than he means, mostly because he knows Eamon's right.
He shifts, untangling himself from Eamon. Reaches over the side of the bed, finding his discarded shorts and cleans them both off. He's careful, almost gentle. Early morning dawn starts to creep into the room, the halls silent for a few hours. He half-sits, looking out the window and then over at Eamon. Neither of them talks, but Eamon sits up, reaching blindly around for his clothes. Ryan turns, watching him and then, before he can stop himself, he reaches out. Knowing he shouldn't, he curls his hand around Eamon's wrist.
Stay. His voice is firm and everything is telling him not to do this. But it's too late, even if he'd had a choice. Eamon almost smiles, like that slight one he had when he got his ass handed to him by Bernard. Ryan tugs, pulling Eamon to him and kisses him. Just gently, something he should reserve for anyone other than a one night stand. But he can't seem to stop himself. Eamon turns, as if to leave, and then stops. He turns back, kisses Ryan again, pushing him onto his back.
They don't talk. Instead, Eamon curls up, head on Ryan's chest. Morning arrives eventually, filling the room with light, but neither of them moves. Ryan thinks it'll get better, things with Mike. He doesn't care about Eamon, or at least his ex-girlfriend. But he didn't mind this, either. He shifts, wrapping an arm around Eamon, pulling him closer. And he wonders, just briefly, if maybe he's lying to himself, just a little.
Fandom: Swimming
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Eamon Sullivan
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: For metafic and beta by her as well. Takes place during the second week of the '08 Olympics.
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Ryan barely remembers how it started. Too many drinks and Eamon just looked so fucking sad. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, except that he kind of knew how Eamon felt. The promise of things working out that just somehow felt flat. And now they're stumbling past athletes neither of them know, people who don't give them a second glance and Ryan's glad he remembered to wear a hat. He pulls it down, almost covering his eyes as Eamon half-clings to him. He sort of drags Eamon toward the elevators, mostly because Eamon's decided to be the biggest pain in the ass. The wait is short and by the time the doors open on Ryan's floor, they're both not quite sober, but no longer stumbling drunk.
Eamon gives him a look as they step out into the hall, mumbling something about this not looking like his floor. Ryan can't help laughing, though it's more than a little strained. They all look the same, he says and Eamon rolls his eyes. They walk the rest of the way in silence, Ryan left to his own thoughts, wondering what possessed him to bring Eamon back to his room. Maybe it was the look on his face when he saw his ex-girlfriend with Mike. It could have been the way he sounded just like a kicked puppy and sometimes Ryan just can't help himself. Maybe it was the way they've both been fucked by Mike, though, Ryan thinks, not literally in Eamon's case. He almost smiles, but doesn't when he notices Eamon watching him. He shrugs and stops in front of his door.
He twists the key in the lock, pushing it open. Eamon brushes past and Ryan thinks that maybe he brought Eamon back because he's just that hot. He almost grins, but doesn't because he doesn't want to have to explain things. If he starts, he figures he's had just enough alcohol that he might just keep talking. And Ryan doesn't want to go there, not now. He's lost in thought, standing in the doorway and doesn't know that Eamon's watching him again. Eamon reaches out, fingers curling around Ryan's wrist and tugs, just gently. Ryan stumbles into his room, pulling his key out just before the door slams shut behind him.
I know about you and Phelps. Eamon's voice is soft, almost inaudible.
Ryan starts, looking over at Eamon. He doesn't quite know what to say. Sort of just stares at him, kind of surprised and embarrassed.
Eamon steps closer and Ryan thinks he's lost control of the situation before it ever started. I know you're still friends, Eamon says and Ryan doesn't bother to stop himself from resting his hands on Eamon's hips. But I think he's --
Ryan knows how that sentence ends and he doesn't want to hear it. Instead he leans in, bridging the short distance between them, and kisses Eamon hard. He's insistent, almost rough, but he's glad when Eamon doesn't resist. Tenses for a second, then kisses him back, rough and Ryan is temporarily thrown off balance because all he can think is more, please more. He wants more of this, of Eamon. He pulls back, just a fraction, looking at Eamon and opens his mouth to say something. Maybe to apologize or tell Eamon to go, but nothing comes out.
Eamon grins, an impish smile tinged with bitterness that Ryan feels but will never show. He steps forward, hand against Ryan's chest and kisses him again. Eamon's other hand slides up, pushing Ryan's hat the rest of the way off, fingers twisting in his hair. Ryan returns the kiss hungrily, practically shoving Eamon toward the wall. If Eamon wants to play, Ryan thinks, opening his mouth against Eamon's, they can play. Ryan knows he's good.
He shoves his knee between Eamon's legs, pressing against him and he's rewarded with a low moan. Grins against Eamon's mouth and does it again, harder this time. Eamon pushes his hands under the hem of Ryan's shirt, digging his nails into Ryan's hips. Ryan bites Eamon's bottom lip, tugging at it a little and Ryan thinks things are going to get out of hand and he finds he just can't be bothered to care.
Eamon jerks their bodies together, dislodging Ryan's knee. They're pressed close, Ryan's hips against Eamon's and he slides his hands down until he finds Eamon's wrists. Grabs them roughly, holding onto them as he deepens the kiss. Eamon arches against Ryan, thrusting and Ryan's hard through his shorts. Grinds back, feels Eamon hard and he smirks, just a little. But Eamon's moving against him, grinding harder and Ryan has to struggle to keep his hands on Eamon's wrists. In a swift movement, he lifts Eamon's arms above his head, pinning him against the wall. Hips pressing hard and Eamon doesn't struggle, doesn't even protest. Just sort of grins at Ryan and then strains forward, kissing him. Ryan sinks into the kiss, pouring a little too much of himself into it and he finds he has to stop.
He pulls back, dropping Eamon's hands, and leans against the far wall of the entrance hall. Eamon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving Ryan's.
Maybe I should ... Eamon trails off and Ryan shakes his head.
No. His voice is unbearably soft, but he can't make himself talk any louder. Stay. And then he's making his way toward the bed, back to Eamon. He waits for the door to shut, waits for Eamon to leave because he's made it awkward.
But there's nothing but silence, and then Eamon's hand on his back. Ryan wants to turn, tell him it's all in good fun and Mike doesn't mean anything by it. He wants to say that it was only sex with Mike, nothing more. He wants to go back to being the Ryan who doesn't care about anything or what anyone thinks. Because he never meant to get hurt, never meant to get so attached.
He turns and Eamon's watching him. He opens his mouth, trying to find something to say, but he never gets the chance. Eamon's mouth covers his and Ryan finds he has no desire to resist. Lets Eamon push him onto the bed, hands along his body. Pushing at his shirt, tugging it off and then his own. Ryan watches, then leans forward, biting at Eamon's chest, pulling him closer, sucking on one nipple, then the other and he thinks it's no longer a game. It's filling a need, something they've both lost. This won't fix it, but at least he thinks he can make himself stop thinking about it.
Eamon's hands slide down, along Ryan's chest, toward the top of his shorts. Ryan lifts his hips, letting Eamon's hands scrape lightly down his hips, pulling his shorts off. He shivers and leans forward, hooking his fingers over the top of Eamon's shorts and shoves. They come off easily and Eamon crawls over Ryan, settling down on top of him and somehow the only thing Ryan can think is that this works. He reaches out, fingers against Eamon's cheek, against the hint of a beard and then against the back of his neck. He pulls Eamon down, but not into a kiss. Mouth against his chest as Ryan half-sits. Then against the tattoo on his chest, biting hard. Eamon moans and Ryan slides his hand down, fingers against the base of Eamon's cock.
They both stop, Eamon looking all sorts of young and vulnerable. But then there's noise outside, people running down the hall and yelling and the moment passes. Eamon thrusts against Ryan's hand, pressing his own hand against Ryan's cock. Eamon leans in, mouth against Ryan's and presses their bodies roughly together, hands caught between them for a moment. Then it's Eamon's turn, Ryan's wrists in his hands, above his head, their bodes moving together. He hooks a leg over one of Eamon's, arching as their bodies come together. Eamon pins him to the bed, kissing him harder and Ryan loses himself, just a little, as the kiss deepens. The world spins around them, everything leaving except Eamon's mouth hot on his, their bodies twisted together.
Eamon freezes, stopping at the sound in the hall. Pounding on the door, but Ryan just shakes his head. Ignore it, he mouths and then shifts, purposefully aching his body against Eamon's as he reaches for the nightstand. Frees a condom from under the alarm clock and grabs the lube from behind the lamp. For a moment Eamon laughs, mouth open and no sound and Ryan can't help grinning too. The knocking on the door stops soon after and they're descending into the soft silence of the dorms.
Will you fuck me? Eamon asks, beating Ryan to the question.
Ryan grins, a little mischievously and nods. He almost says something stupid, like, how he was going to ask, but he doesn't. Instead he shoves Eamon off, crawling until he's on top. Looks down at Eamon and grins again, leaning forward and kissing him. Eamon's hand on his cock, stroking roughly and so he grabs Eamon's free hand, leaning back until he can pull it up, fingers against the tattoo on his wrist and then he bites. His eyes never leave Eamon's and the look on his face is worth all of this. He does it again, licking lightly and then pulls back, barely touching Eamon at all. Crawls between his legs, brushing his fingers against Eamon's cock, then grabs the lube off the bed.
He shifts forward, pushing Eamon's legs up, knees bent slightly. Reaches out with his free hand and runs his fingers along Eamon's hips, around his cock and then pulls back again. Squeezes lube onto his fingers and presses them against Eamon's ass. Holds his gaze, watching as he slides a finger in, twisting it just slightly. Eamon bites his bottom lip, shifting onto his elbows. It's hot, hotter than Ryan expects and he shivers. He slides two fingers in, making Eamon gasp and then Ryan grins, confidence back and Eamon swears at him as he reaches down, fingers around himself. Ryan watches, moving his fingers almost absently as he stares at Eamon's hand against his cock, stroking. He swallows hard, twists his fingers hard, making Eamon shudder and then pulling out.
Eamon whimpers and Ryan grins, smirking a little as he slides the condom on. More lube on his fingers, around his cock and Eamon's almost begging. He doesn't make him wait, doesn't even want to wait. Shifts forward, pushing against Eamon, lifting his legs up as he presses forward. Cock against Eamon's ass, thrusts and then slides in, slow then faster. Eamon drags his hands along Ryan's shoulders, one hand against his face and then up, into his hair. Twists his hands roughly and Ryan can't stop the moan. Eamon pulls at Ryan, bringing him in close and Ryan thrusts in deeper. He growls a little and Eamon kisses him hard, biting a little as he deepens the kiss.
Ryan thrusts harder, longing motions that draw noises from Eamon. He swallows them, straining against Eamon's fingers in his hair, only because he likes the way it fells. He presses their bodies closer together, only stopping his thrusts for a moment, just so he can slide his hand between them. Fingers around Eamon's cock and there's no way he'd stop this. Not now. Eamon shifts, taking Ryan in deeper. Slides his legs around Ryan, pulling roughly at his hair. Ryan moans again, a little louder and if he wasn't so far into this, so fucking gone, he'd be embarrassed. But he can't be, because he kind of loves this.
He thrusts harder, closer than he means, but he can feel Eamon close under him. He bites at Eamon's mouth, his turn to be rough. Braces himself with his free hand, the other moving against and around Eamon's cock. They move, arching and thrusting, not quite together, but enough that Ryan knows neither of them is going to last much longer. He shudders first, gasping against Eamon's mouth. But it's Eamon who comes first, whimpering as his body tightens, squeezing around Ryan, fingers still tight in his hair. He comes hard, shuddering and almost shaking.
Eamon's legs tighten around Ryan, pulling him in deep and Ryan thrusts hard. Ryan shudders, body shaking like Eamon's and then he comes hard. Mouth on Eamon's, moans sliding out of him. He groans a little, suddenly drained. Eamon's hand in his hair changes, no longer pulling but stroking. Ryan leans back, but not far. Just enough so he can pull out, strip the condom off and drop it in the trash, all without dislodging Eamon's hand from his hair. He crawls back over, but not on top of him. They lie there in the darkness, Eamon's fingers moving on Ryan's hair and his hands on Eamon's chest.
She broke my heart. Eamon's voice is a whisper and Ryan looks up, but doesn't reply. He broke yours, voice softer now, gentler.
Ryan shakes his head, but Eamon tugs lightly at his hair. Doesn't say anything, but pulls him forward. Kisses him gently and Ryan returns the kiss, rougher than he means, mostly because he knows Eamon's right.
He shifts, untangling himself from Eamon. Reaches over the side of the bed, finding his discarded shorts and cleans them both off. He's careful, almost gentle. Early morning dawn starts to creep into the room, the halls silent for a few hours. He half-sits, looking out the window and then over at Eamon. Neither of them talks, but Eamon sits up, reaching blindly around for his clothes. Ryan turns, watching him and then, before he can stop himself, he reaches out. Knowing he shouldn't, he curls his hand around Eamon's wrist.
Stay. His voice is firm and everything is telling him not to do this. But it's too late, even if he'd had a choice. Eamon almost smiles, like that slight one he had when he got his ass handed to him by Bernard. Ryan tugs, pulling Eamon to him and kisses him. Just gently, something he should reserve for anyone other than a one night stand. But he can't seem to stop himself. Eamon turns, as if to leave, and then stops. He turns back, kisses Ryan again, pushing him onto his back.
They don't talk. Instead, Eamon curls up, head on Ryan's chest. Morning arrives eventually, filling the room with light, but neither of them moves. Ryan thinks it'll get better, things with Mike. He doesn't care about Eamon, or at least his ex-girlfriend. But he didn't mind this, either. He shifts, wrapping an arm around Eamon, pulling him closer. And he wonders, just briefly, if maybe he's lying to himself, just a little.