It was safe to stay, most of Shane's friends are assholes, exactly like him.
He had worried when he was a kid that he drew a particular crowd to his person, but by the time he was unloading his last box of recently shifted belongings into his newly christened California dorm room for his first year of college, he really couldn't care less.
He was just happy to go with the flow and it seemed, thankfully, he's in the right place to embrace that motto for all it was worth. LA wasn't the Windy City after all.
There had been some non-emotional goodbyes (and of course, some emotional sounding ones as his parents, ever the loving Midwestern couple, couldn't let him go without a few kisses and tears, mostly from his mom) and a lot of drinking and late-night farewelling of friends before he got on the plane to the west side of the country.
The boxes had been in an endless stream for the last few hours as he put everything where it needed to be (and greeted his roommate, who'd helped him get them in there), but there was a small bit of satisfaction as he got to the final one, only to find it instead of being more of his rather small amount of belongings, that it was just going away gifts from some of his friends and of course, his parents and brother.
Given he didn't miss home terribly yet (he'd always been the adventurous kid), he almost didn't want to open them, but figured what the hell? New town, new place, new people.
He had to show the West Coasters that middle America was fucking /boss/.
Inside the carefully wrapped presents were as follows:
From his brother, several different Chicago sport team shirts (god, Scott, of course he would do that. He didn't even know his Bears from his Blackhawks, but whatever) which were looked over, laughed or puzzled at and then hastily put away.
From his father, a bunch of coffee mugs (most themed after roads as his Dad's job seemingly had finally leeched its way into their daily life) which he hung up next to his shoes for later brewing, drinking and using for other things.
From his mother, a new sketchbook and a hell of a lot of obviously recycled school distract lead pencils (clearly she both knew him best and needed to get out of her office sometime) which he placed on his new, very graffitied desk for late use, one of his father's coffee cups hastily becoming the owner to the several unsharpened pieces of wood.
Lastly, from his friends: Several bottles of top-shelf alcohol (including one bottle of the prized Jeppson's Malört that he will not be opening ever, thank you very much), a few random nicknacks here and there (glow in the dark stars! They really /did/ love him) and a smaller package that when flipped, revealed something he wasn't expecting. A tiny man.
Well, a tiny man with his face obscured as he was looking through a camera behind a shell of plastic that is. On the top in bold letters was "GROW YOUR DREAM BOYFRIEND" and underneath that, a name.
Ryan.
"Ryan?" Shame muttered as he stared at the figurine, before flipping it over to the back to read the fine print he hadn't processed earlier, having to grab his glasses to see it.
"Using patented technology, you can now have your very own sweetheart right in your own backyard. Introducing the 'Grow Your Own…Boyfriend!', the latest in fun and silly gag gifts for that friend who seems a little bit too lonely!" Shane read out from the box, rolling his eyes.
"Step 1: Open packet, Step 2: Put in water, Step 3: Wait 12 hours." Shane quoted from the box, tossing it in his hands to look at the dark-haired figure inside. "Well, at least you're handsome enough, even if you are a toy and not a real person. Of course they would give me something like this, should have never come out before I left, all that cheering for nothing."
Shaking his head, he looked at the back of the box again, this time in the 'Profile' section to see what he was working with. "Uh, okay- this is Ryan. Ryan is a very cheeky Californian college student..uh, studying film who loves all types of sport including his favourite, which is basketball, watching films, anything Disney, drawing comics, ghost hunting- oh please, I would never get with someone like this, major turn off...um, as well having as over the top personality! He's very single and ready to mingle!"
Shane regarded the poor little camera welding figurine in the plastic once again. "This is really trying to sell you as dateable dude, I almost feel sorry for you." He placed the box on the desk to stare at the unmoving and rather trapped figure with a sigh. "You seem like you'd be a good guy, minus the whole ghost hunting thing. Sadly ghosts aren't real, same with yourself. Don't take it too hard. I don't know what good 12 hours will do you given your height is listed as 5'9" and I'm like 6'4", but hopefully, I don't look like too much of a giant to you, huh?"
Patting the box on the head, he moved it to set it up onto a nearby shelf that housed his books without a second thought and for about 6 months, that's where Ryan stayed.
While Shane had put his other gifts and belongings to use, Ryan sat silently on that shelf all that time, but Shane did not forget him. In fact, he swore he talked to Ryan more than he did most of the actual friends he'd made on campus.
It was just something about the "little guy" he'd kept referring to him as when he did, that made him not want to dunk him in a glass and then once he rotted, throw him out so he could be in a landfill somewhere. It seemed silly for a toy to have such power and Shane didn't believe in cursed objects or anything, but he just felt like Ryan needed to stick around for a while before he went and sacrificed him.
Every morning, Ryan in his basketball jersey, hoodie around his waist, cuffed jeans and sneakers would be there, his little black camera covering his face, the only thing visible being a backwards snapback over a small head of what Shane assumed to be short black hair, though he couldn't really tell, much to his somehow unreasonable disappointment.
"Honestly, little guy-" Shane would mutter to him some days. "-that lecturer needs to put a sock in it, I could teach that class better than he ever could-" or "Ryan, I got a C on my backstory of the Great Emu War, a C! I'm literally writing to my lecturer right now, wanna see my e-mail?", stuff like that was normal for them, as normal as it could be between a grown-ass man and his plastic shelf buddy.
Even his roommate, who had taken Shane's quirks in stride, thought it was a little too weird, but Shane just shrugged. "Hey, can't help that he's a nice guy and that he's quiet when I'm studying, unlike you." At least they both laughed about it.
Finally, despite his best wishes, Ryan's day was coming and it came faster than Shane expected. He and his roommate were getting ready for the day and Shane had just brewed a coffee in the shared area that his dorm block contained that he left on his desk while he went to go look for the textbooks he needed for this paper.
He said a quick goodbye to his roommate as he was leaving, but failed to see him slam the door, causing the wall to shake and even worse, cause poor Ryan to fall, down, down, down in his little plastic prison and strike his coffee cup head-on, knocking it over.
Looking up with textbooks in hand, Shane's eyebrows went up seeing his coffee knocked over, but his heart dropped in his chest seeing a familiar packet on the ground soaking in the puddle of liquid that dripped from his desk. Forgetting about the textbooks, he dived across the room to pick Ryan up out of the coffee, grabbing one of his towels in a vain hope to dry him back to pristine condition, hoping it hadn't gotten into the box.
One look however and it was obvious the coffee had gotten through the thin paper backing and a smalls mount currently sat at Ryan's little feet, pooled in the plastic mockingly.
He wanted to cry, scream, something, but he was never good with emotions. This, however, hurt him. It hurt in a way he couldn't express or understand given it's just a stupid, most likely mass-produced, brought from anywhere figurine and he shouldn't be as attached to it as he'd become, but damn it hurt.
Getting back to his feet, he ripped the backing from the plastic, watching as it fell apart in his hands before it ended up in the waste paper basket, Ryan cradled in the palm of his hand and smelling like freshly brewed Starbucks as the plastic followed it's partner to the bottom.
Almost as if he was conducting a Viking funeral, Shane cradled Ryan close to his chest as he grabbed one of his mugs from his stand (the Magnificent Mile, only the best for Ryan) before he filled it almost to the top, placing it on his shelf where he used to be, further back this time so that the mug sat flush against his books.
Looking down at Ryan, Shane pulled in a sharp breath before he murmured "Goodbye, buddy. Thanks for being my best friend. See you on the other side." before he gently sild Ryan into the warm water, watching as he disappeared into the ceramic.
Shane couldn't stay in the dorm that night, even after cleaning up the coffee spill. There was no way he was going to sit there and watch Ryan grow or disintegrate or whatever the hell he was supposed to do. He'd long forgotten what the packet had said given he hadn't moved Ryan in 6 months, but he wasn't sticking around to find out.
For once in his life, Shane Madej went out to a party and got drunk. Drunker than he'd ever been in his whole life. So drunk that he made out with a few people (nothing to talk about), played a game of pool (and lost badly), tried to do a keg stand (failed that too) and his whole eyesight had become blurry by the time he stumbled back into his dorm room.
He had looked briefly toward the desk in some sort of hope that Ryan would still be there to greet him, but the rooms as too dark and the world was too shaky, so he'd just ended up falling asleep as soon as his face hit the bed, passing out in a haze of sloppy, high brain functioning and the hurt that hadn't been numbed despite his attempt to do so.
Several hours later, Shane wasn't sure what time it was, but his head hurt like hell and he felt like he wanted to be sick, but tried not to be as he rose, the covers tangled around his waist.
Bending over, he was about to attempt to stumble out of bed and check the time (god, he hoped he hadn't missed a class), he felt a hand on his back, stopping him. "I don't think so, mister."
The voice didn't sound like his roommate, it was a harder tone, but melodic at the same time and it confused him. Did he take someone home with him? Was his roommate hosting one of his frat brothers?
This must have been seen by this person, because they started talking again. "Uh-uh, don't make that sound with me, Shane. What were you thinking, going and getting yourself drunk like that? You could have hurt yourself! Plus you have exams coming up. I should be tying your goddamn ass to the bed."
Too curious for his own good, Shane finally tried to expose his eyes to the light and after a bit of harsh blinking, was greeted with the most unthinkable sight imaginable.
Two big brown eyes stared back at him, with a face that was lighthearted but stern. He wore a backwards snapback over a head of short black hair, with a gold and purple basketball jersey, hoodie tied around his waist, cuffed jeans and sneakers, a camera saddled under his arm while the other was against his back, a grin flooding his face that made him look more handsome as he saw him looking at him. "There he is, rise and shine big guy. Day's only just started. Gotta get up and attem!"
He was either still drunk or god forbid, he'd gotten alcohol poisoning and died somewhere being stupid because...it can't be. "...Ryan?"
"Uh, yeah, who else would I be?" Ryan's face (he can see his face!) took on an air of concern as he puts his hand on his forehead. "You okay? You aren't running a fever, but given you overdid it, you might have caught something-"
Shane, despite still thinking this is all a dream, surges forward and cuts whatever Ryan is about to say clean off, his lips hungrily pressing into his before he pulls back. "Is this real?"
Ryan, now with blush staining his cheeks, stutters before looking back at the shelf.
The mug is tipped over, but there's no water staining Shane's desk. Shane's never believed and anything /remotely/ like this, but Ryan's here and he's real and he's not a 5-inch high toy and fuck it, if he's crazy, he's crazy, because this /has/ to be real. It. has. to. be.
Shane pulls him in for another kiss, the taste of coffee flooding his senses and body till it fills him up, up, up like he had that cup 12 hours earlier, right on the dot of the clock had something to say about it.
Shane's friends don't know exactly how "Ryan Bergara" appears out of nowhere, or even how Shane and he met eachother, but they're quite happy for him as Ryan seems to make the sun just shine on a rainy day, for lack of a better term.
His roommate (who leaves the next year on a research trip) also doesn't question Ryan's dress sense seeming similar to Shane's old figurine or willingness to move into the dorm in his place, but hey, the guy's parents are dentists and Shane seems to be head over heels for him, so he seems pretty cool.
Shane flies back to Chicago around Christmas and unsurprisingly, brings Ryan with him.
While his Dad, Ryan and Scott are talking about some game on the TV, he quizzes his mother on who gave them the package that contained Ryan in the first place. She doesn't have answers for him, just said that a friend came up to them and passed it along as they were loading up his moving truck with his belongings. No name or address left.
Looking over at Ryan, Shane wishes he could thank them, but resolves to just spending time with his family and now boyfriend as the snowflakes danced around the Chicago lights outside, while inside Shane's heart, it was warmer than it had ever been.