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Humans had something Shane didn’t, and he was immensely envious of it. He could hear it, a constant rhythm in his ears that never went away until he went home. It was just him at his house, and only there was the demon allowed to have silence.
A heartbeat. A simple organ that contracted and made a soft lub dub. Edgar Allen Poe had been very correct when he compared the melody to a watch wrapped in cotton. Every member of Buzzfeed had their own rhythm, and the longer he worked there the more intune he was with their characteristics. Eugene’s was fast, a result of all the caffeine and alcohol he consumed on a daily basis combined with the extraordinary amount of stress that resulted from his perfectionist work ethic. Andrew’s was slow, lethargic, a direct reflection of the energy level of its owner. It wasn’t a complete surprise that it beat faster whenever he was around a certain Steven Lim. Keith’s was loud, Ned’s was powerful, Adam’s skipped a beat due to an unfortunate, but innocent heart murmur.
The one he loved the most, though, belonged to none other than Ryan Bergara. Shane sat directly next to Ryan, meaning he heard his the most every single day. Ryan’s was...unique. It was never the same, it had a personality of its own, and even that wasn’t the right word. When he was laughy and happy, it set a normal beat, beating loud and proud like he wanted Shane to hear it. During an Unsolved shoot, it beat so fast and loud that Shane was worried it would beat out of his chest and when that happened, Shane wanted nothing more than to wrap him up and tell him it was okay, that there were no ghosts around and that he was safe. In all honesty, the ghosts that were present were pretty friendly anyway.
When they both reached for their communal pencil holder to grab a pen and their hands touched, he could hear it skip, hear the slight quicken like an electric shock had just gone through his blood. It gave the demon hope, like there was a remote chance of something, anything happening.
When his heart beat slowed down to nearly a stop the first time, Shane had nearly called every paramedic in the vicinity. A quick shake showed that Ryan had just fallen asleep at his desk, eyes bloodshot and the bags under his eyes deepened.
But that smile.
That smile when he woke up from his desk naps, when Shane told a stupid joke or told him about his newest addition of the hot dog saga, when they were in the car together, when they argued, when Ryan lit up when discussing basketball or sneakers, just being happy. If Shane had a heart, it would stop every time Ryan Bergara smiled at him.
And finally, when Shane mustered up enough courage to kiss Ryan at his doorstep, that heart beat louder than Keith’s, faster than Eugene’s, and more powerful than Ned’s. That night, with his ear pressed against his chest, Shane let the gentle rhythm of Ryan’s heart lull him to sleep.
It belonged to him now.