Eleven Eleven

Dream On

"About eighty percent of our fans are positive Xander is dead."

Ryan Flynn's quiet rasp was the first sound to reach my ears the second my hearing returned. The deafening screams of thousands of fangirls being trampled on outside the hospital still managed to break through the glass and walls, causing a slight delay in my ability to hear my surroundings again. He was perched on an invisible chair, crouched feet away from the receptionist desk, blonde hair spiked. The color drained from his face when he caught sight of me beside his manager, lips parted in shock.

He didn't look as wretched and distraught as his bandmate, but there was an obvious depression hanging over his head, slowly sucking the energy out of him.

"I thought none of the girls were allowed in here." Ryan rose, head cocked.

Jack opened his mouth to introduce me, but Mason beat him to it.

"It's Willow, Ry. Don't worry, she isn't going to have a mental breakdown over your sudden appearance."

I saw Ryan's confusion and curiosity grow as he crossed the large, empty room to meet us. "Willow as in Xan's Willow?"

"I don't look that different." I stated. "Stop acting like you don't recognize me."

"Honest to God, I don't." Ryan's voice dropped another octave. "You have a boyfriend?"

Mason punched his friend's shoulder. "As far as Xander knows, I am her boyfriend. And come on, Ry, we've got more important things to worry about than chicks."

The oldest of the boys held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Dr. Andrews just said Xan is up. Haiden and Ash went to get something to eat in the cafeteria, said they'll meet us in there."

I could feel the anxiety of the situation finally starting to settle in as Mason started down the hall, throwing a look my way over his shoulder. "Come on."

Ryan stepped aside and bowed, a tired smirk playing on his lips. Moving passed him slowly, I felt him fall into step beside me as we continued down the hall after Mason.

"Please don't try to hit on me." I blurted before he could make any moves. He laid his hand over his chest, feigning hurt.

"I would never do such a thing."

I tried to fight the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. "How many girls have you slept with over the last four years."

He pretended to count on his hands. "Twenty-seven."

"Are you serious?"

He chuckled. "I've only been with a couple. All you tabloid writer's love making up shit. I saw one the other day that said Ash and I were in a secret relationship and were afraid to reveal it to the public."

I couldn't decide whether to smile at the crappy excuse for a story or frown in confusion over the fact that he knew I was a journalist.

"You know I write for-"

"Anytime we come down here for a show, Xander grabs a magazine and brings it back with us or reads it online for hours. We've read your stuff, sweetheart, you're not too bad." Ryan explained quietly, nudging my shoulder playfully.

I huffed. "I wish you guys weren't so nice."

"Excuse me?" Ryan laughed huskily.

"I want to hate you guys as much as I hate your music, but I can't. I remember meeting you for the first time and wishing you were all jerks and Xander wouldn't want to stay."