Follow the lines and wonder why...there's no connection.

I know, I’m horrible at updating D; But, as promised, I managed to finish up the next chapter today. Sorry I didn’t finish it up sooner.

***

Outside the air was turning crisp and the leaves were breaking loose from their branches, scattering the ground in a collage of auburn and gold. The evenings of long sunshine were beginning to grow thin and the sky was already growing dark with streaks of grey cloud.

Ryan walked beside me, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket and head turned down, avoiding the wind. I counted the steps from the parked car to the sidewalk. Twenty eight. Twenty eight steps just to get up to the box office. That was a lot, if you thought about it, considering I was parked along the sidewalk by the theater only twenty feet away. Wait…parked twenty feet away and it took twenty eight steps to arrive at the front of the theater? I glanced back, estimating the distance to the car. Had we walked in a zigzag pattern or something?

“Jon...” My head snapped back. Ryan was walking from the ticket counter, two tickets in hand. He held my ticket out which I took, fingers brushing over his hand. I didn’t bother to read off the movie title. There was no point. Instead of driving us to the regular sixteen room theater, I had decided on the smaller local one, which only featured a single film and where tickets cost four dollars. It’s not that I was cheap, but this theater was more cozy, more quaint. Not that I had premeditated this as a date or anything. Of course not.

“C’mon, it’s cold out here.” Ryan motioned towards the entrance.

We walked through the door, a wave of warmth rushing over us. The lighting seemed dimmer inside than it should be. What’s with the mood lighting? Or maybe I was imagining it. To the far left there was the snacks counter, a greasy haired teenage boy manning the station with an elbow leaning against the glass countertop, eyes straining to remain open.

“You want anything?” I offered, just now registering that Ryan had paid for the tickets. Somehow this seemed horribly and inexplicably wrong on my part.

To my dismay he shook his head ‘no’.

Ryan grabbed my hand and led me across the carpet, towards the entrance of the theater room.

The reel of previews were already running when we entered, Daniel Day-Lewis raving on about oil as he marched across the screen wild-eyed. The window shattering decibel level and smell of over-buttered popcorn seemed comforting to me, and I could feel Ryan grasp my hand a little tighter as he started moving towards the stairs.

As we traveled upwards I looked down each aisle, the flicks of light catching three faces in the shadows. The first face belonged to a woman, around her late thirties. Around her neck a wool scarf was tightly wrapped, dull brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t pretty, either. I imagined her going home to frozen microwave dinners while she watched CSI, NCIS, House.

We climbed higher up, nearing the top as we approached the other two people, a girl and a boy. They looked about sixteen, and definitely not old enough to get into the R rated film without being accompanied by a parent. I wondered if it was their mother sitting ten rows down.

Ryan veered into the top row of seats (somehow I expected this), settling in the center of the aisle, aligned with the teenagers two rows down. The last preview was rolling (something about a pregnant girl and an Alaskan city?), and soon enough the opening scene was playing, a vast expanse of snow covered terrain, blinding in contrast to the dim room.

In squinting downwards from the bright scene my eyes met our two hands, fingers still interlaced. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding Ryan’s hand. All I could think was ‘What the hell am I doing?’ Seeing a movie with Ryan was harmless. Going out on a date type event with Ryan was not so harmless. What bothered me most was that the feeling of guilt was absent in my conscious. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that this was probably considered cheating the relationship field guide. Then again, I’ve been cheating on Spencer for the past four days.

All of the sudden my hand was cold, Ryan reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a paper packet of some sort. I watched him tear the packet open, Ryan’s eyes never leaving the screen. He stuck his index finger into his mouth, sucking for a moment. Suddenly I became extremely paranoid that Ryan was aware of me watching him, and also that my stomach sort of clenched as I watched. He dipped his finger into the packet, swirling it around a bit before bringing it back out, covered in a white powder. He continued to repeat the action, eating the powder off of his finger and then re-dipping, and I sat there for a good five minutes watching, in great denial that there was a tightening in my pants.

“You aren’t paying attention to the movie,” Ryan stated out of nowhere, the regular pitch of his voice startling me. I quickly looked back to the screen, making it all too obvious that yes, I had been watching him. “Want some?” He held out the package, tipping it towards me slightly. Before I had a chance to ask what it was Ryan answered, “Hot chocolate.”

Perhaps if I didn’t quite know Ryan so well I would have looked at him oddly and told him that you were supposed to add hot water and then drink it. And perhaps if I had been the same person I was a month and a half ago I would have creased my eyebrows and taken a few steps back. But this wasn’t the case, so I instead popped my index finger into my mouth and then poked it into the package.

“Not that bad, right?” Ryan asked, taking another dip himself. I shrugged, digging my finger in for another coat. In all honesty, it wasn’t that bad. It tasted a little bitter, but other than that it could practically pass for delicious.

I continued dipping my finger in, every so often colliding with Ryan’s own hand. Through the next hour I focused half of my attention on the screeching vampires on screen, and the other half on trying to figure out why I thought that this situation was ok. Why I wasn’t missing Spencer half as much as I should have been.

The vampire drags someone’s wife underneath their house. I love Spencer. Of course I do. The police officer hacks the vampire’s head off. It’s utterly ridiculous to think that I would ever choose Ryan over Spencer. The vampires light the town on fire. In fact I wish I were with Spencer right now.

It dawned on me that I had made Spencer the equivalent to 30 Days of Night, so instead I just stopped thinking all together. This proved to be a bad decision though.

The movie must have only had twenty minutes left when Ryan turned around in his seat, legs pulled up. “Jon, do you like me?”

“Of course I like you Ryan.” My answer was automatic and spilled from my mouth like toxic waste. I turned to him and smiled, unknowing, like the idiot I am.

“I like you too…” Ryan sighed, and I faltered, coming to realize what my words meant in Ryan’s mind. To my surprise he didn’t lean forward to kiss me, but remained still, seemingly waiting for me to make the move. “He doesn’t have to know…your boyfriend I mean…”

He was making it so tempting, and I began to hate him for it. Why, why me? Why was this happening to me. Was this some sort of test from God? A test of my morals?

I was never good at tests. I always ended up failing.

My head advanced forward, lips connecting with lips. And because I had decided to stop thinking, pulling Ryan out of his seat and onto my lap really wasn’t difficult at all. My arms snaked around, one hand resting on the small of his back, pulling him as close as possible, and the other threading through his hair.

This had never happened. This had gone beyond just kissing. Yea, I’m definitely cheating now.

Ryan straddled my lap, his hips beginning to grind down, and I wasn’t sure if the action was intentional or not. I cautiously pried his mouth open, letting my tongue explore and getting the feeling of pride as Ryan let out a small noise of surprise. The heat between us was growing from the friction of our bodies sliding against one another, and because I was nearly suffocating I broke away, only to reattach my lips onto his neck. I wanted to mark him. I wanted to make him mine. My dirty little secret. I could feel Ryan’s warm breath against my ear, panting slightly as I let my mouth go to work on his neck, teeth digging into his pulse point. He let out a small moan as my teeth came in contact with his skin, and now there was no denying that my pants felt more constricted.

“Hey. Hey!”

There was silence. There was light.

…There was someone yelling at us.

“Hey, if you’re going to do that, you need to leave.”

Ryan’s and my head turned in unison, spotting the greasy haired kid at the bottom of the stairs, glaring up. Ryan turned back to me, blushing before sliding off my lap and shuffling to the side. The lights in the movie theater were back on, the screen dead black. How long had we been going at it? Long enough for the credits to end.

“Sorry,” I muttered an apology, standing and smoothing my shirt down.

We descended down the stairs and quickly rushed past the movie attendant. Well, it was more like Ryan was rushing and I was trying to keep up. He pushed through the exit and didn’t stop till he was at the car, waiting for me to unlock the door.

This wasn’t fair. Ryan didn’t deserve to be all fidgety and embarrassed, or whatever emotion he was overcome by. He begged me to kiss him. He seduced me! And it especially wasn’t fair because I was the one with the boyfriend!

But I simply unlocked the door and got in, starting the engine and pulling out onto the road. Ryan was tapping his foot against the interior the entire drive back, arms crossed over his chest in some sort of defensive mode. As if I had molested him or something. This really isn’t fair.

Brendon’s car was already in the driveway when I pulled up to the house, the front porch light shining by the door. I looked to the clock, and oh, it was already half past seven.

“Ryan…” I started, but wasn’t sure how to even finish the sentence. He looked back at me, eyes dark. The purple mark on his neck was evident and I had to force myself not to smile at my work.

“See you tomorrow.” The car door slammed shut, and Ryan was gone.

***

I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.

And then I saw how good other people could write.

So I changed my mind.

And I decided that I wanted to be a photographer when I grew up.

And then my friend got her camera.

And she was much better at taking pictures than me.

So I thought that maybe I should do something else.

And I decided that I wanted to be a movie producer.

But then I realized that someone else probably wanted to do that too.

So I thought long and hard about what it is I was going to do when I grew up.

I’m still thinking.

***

Okay, I promise promise promise I will update Road To Joy by tomorrow. DDD: For those of you who are caring to read it. xD

I know I know, sorry it's so short D: I should be able to write more once I'm finished with my English report.

***

Kissing Ryan was no longer a big deal. In fact, I didn’t think anything of kissing him, as I now did so on a regular basis. Whether it was a simple peck on the cheek, a chaste touching of the lips, or a prolonged goodbye kiss when Brendon wasn‘t looking, I simply did not care. Besides, who said kissing meant that you were in a relationship with that person? Kissing could mean all sorts of things, but in this case it was an act of comfort, from a friend to a friend. It’s not like I was having sex with Ryan. Even so, I didn’t plan to tell Spencer anything about it. He wouldn’t understand.

I’m not sure how I got into the habit of kissing him. All I remembered was that it started four days ago.

Ryan and I stood outside for awhile longer, gazing at the flowerbed he had just demolished. The wind was starting to pick up, lifting the discarded petals from the ground to create a flurry of color in the air. Ryan made the first move, turning on his heel and walking silently back into the house. I followed. He halted in the kitchen, scanning for something that was unknown to me. I took this opportunity to study him from behind, from the point of his shoulder blades to the dip in his back, down the curve of his ass and all the way to where his legs narrowed to his ankles. I suppose Ryan felt my gaze because he turned around, eyes connecting with my own. The next thing I remembered was that my arms found their way around his waist as I pulled him in for a hug, lips connecting with his cheek as I released him. He said nothing and continued to stare at me for the longest time, before finally walking over to the toaster, pushing down the lever.

And now here I was today, four days later, catching myself as I subconsciously kissed the corner of Ryan’s mouth. Suddenly my mind froze and I backtracked, thinking, Did I really just kiss Ryan? I became aware that I had in fact, been kissing Ryan for four days straight, but until now I hadn’t even realized. Everything from four days ago to now seemed a blur in my memory.

Ryan shifted his position on the couch so that he could rest his head in my lap, eyes still concentrating on Tyler Durden on screen, who was currently smashing some guys skull into the dingy concrete floor. I registered that I was currently sitting on Ryan’s couch, with Ryan’s head in my lap, watching a movie. It was like until that point my body had been present, but I hadn’t.

What day was it?

“Hey Ry, what day is it?” Ry? Ry? Since when had I started using pet names?

His head turned in my lap so that he was looking upwards at my face. “Tuesday.”

Tuesday…Tuesday. How did it get to be Tuesday? Where was I over the weekend? It took all of my energy to think back, and I could still feel Ryan’s gaze, steady, concentrating on my face. Lets see…went home Friday…ate dinner with Spencer…then we…oh. Oh. How the hell could I not remember having sex? It was worrying to me, that I couldn’t even remember Spencer pushing me into the bed sheets, all of the panting and moaning and hot breath ghosting over cold skin. It wasn’t like that was a regular weekend activity. We were usually too tired, too busy, too whatever. Ok, where was I? Went home from work Friday, ate dinner with boyfriend, had sex with made love to boyfriend, woke up…woke up earlier than Spencer, went out for walk, came home, ate breakfast, waited for Spencer to wake up...did we go out to see a movie?

I looked up to the television screen, and then down to Ryan’s head. If we were going to sit on our asses all day, we should at least do it outside of the house, right? Suddenly the living room seemed much too compact, and the thought of the large screen and theater seats was inviting.

“Hey Ryan,” I refrained from using Ry, “lets go out and see a movie.”

He rolled over in my lap once more, honey eyes looking thoughtful. Now that I had actually asked, I realized what an odd question that was in this situation. I laughed out loud at my own thoughts. 

“Sure.” He sprung up, clicking the TV off.

I’ve been in a rut lately D: Someone pull me out.

***

I gazed at myself in the rearview mirror, noting the bags under my eyes and the unshaved stubble on my chin. When had I started to look so…worn? I ran my hands over my face and yawned, looking out the car window at the house across the street. It would have been so easy to just not show up. So easy to call Brendon and tell him I quit. Yet I had to make things difficult, didn’t I?

Pulling myself out of the car I crossed the street, not even bothering to look both ways. What did it matter, if I were to get run over by a speeding minivan? Dying certainly would have been easier than facing another day of Ryan. Another day of expectedly unexpected events.

I entered the house without knocking, as always, slipping my shoes off and passing by the kitchen without a single glance. Once again, Brendon was gone, but by now I really didn’t care whether he was present or not. I had become increasingly distrusting of Brendon over the past days, and had little faith that he was the best person to be looking after Ryan. Then again, I’m probably no better of a candidate than Brendon.

I discovered Ryan’s door to be wide open, something that was rare to find. Ryan himself was pressed stiffly against the wall by his closet, pen moving swiftly in his hand. I knocked against the doorframe, waiting for him to finish up whatever he was adding to the wall.

“Hello,” Ryan greeted, voice flat and uninterested. Still, I was impressed he wasn’t shooting daggers at me, seeing as how stupid I had previously been.

“Hi.” I tried to force a smile, remaining just outside of his room. It was only right to wait until he granted me access in. Somehow, I felt that I needed to regain his trust.

Unfortunately, Ryan simply turned back away, continuing on his project. I watched the black marker make curved lines against the wall, the quiet tsch tsch tsch of the felt tip filling the silence. Within five minutes Ryan capped the marker, stepping back to read over what he had written. Without words Ryan waved me in, and I immediately stepped forward, relieved that he wasn’t going to be alienating me the entire time I was over.

“Does this seem accurate?” Ryan asked, arms threading over his chest in thought. I turned to see what he was talking about, scanning over his newest addition of ‘art’.

The list was made up of two columns. On the left there was the title ‘Things I Like About Myself’, and to the right, ‘Things I Don’t Like About Myself’. Even if the rest of the list had been covered, I could have taken the guess that the first column would have been empty, as I found it to be.

“You see,” Ryan interrupted my train of thought, “my therapist once asked me to make this list.” At this I turned to look at him, but Ryan continued gazing straight towards the wall. “At the time I thought it a useless exercise. I mean, that’s what therapists get paid for, putting up false sympathy and understanding. It’s not like she actually gave a shit about me. Even if I had tried to fill out that list, I wouldn’t have been able to write anything down, on either side. But then, just yesterday, I remembered that therapist, who I had long since stopped seeing in sessions. I remembered her, and I remembered the time she asked me to make this list. And you know what, it occurred to me, that I could now fill it out.” Ryan paused now, still refusing to look at me. A sickening feeling settled in my stomach, slowly building up into my throat. He began to read off his list, of the things he didn’t like about himself. “I am not worth loving. I am not a good person. I have hurt other people. I do not deserve to live. I am not worth loving.” He read the items off, and each time I could feel a stabbing sensation in my heart. A knife, thrusting into my chest and twisting, making me wince.

It was only now that Ryan turned to me, expression unreadable and eyes cold. “So, Jon, does that seem accurate?” He nearly spat the last word out at me.

I could already feel myself crumbling, and I wanted to curse myself. What was I doing? I was hired to be a caretaker. It wasn’t my place to tamper with Ryan’s emotions, or to be his savior.

Suddenly warm tears were leaking from my eyes. I couldn’t even help it and had to turn away, biting down onto my lower lip in an attempt to keep whatever composure I had left.

“You’re worth loving.” I wasn’t sure who was talking, but it sure wasn’t me. The words were coming out past my lips as I still had my back to Ryan, but I had no control over what my mouth projected.

I felt Ryan storm past me, his shoulder colliding with my own. I watched him go at first, listening to the sound of the sliding glass door being opened. Wiping the pathetic tears from my face I remembered that I was here to be his caretaker and walked down the hall and into the kitchen, stepping out into the backyard through the open door.

I had only been in their backyard on one occasion, and then for only about two minutes. It wasn’t anything special, in fact it wasn’t even a decent backyard, especially compared to the well kept front yard. Most of the grass had long turned a scorched brown color, a few shriveled up shrubs lining the wooden fence dividing the property. There was a water spigot, rusted in color, and a folding lawn chair was positioned off to the side, colors faded by the sun. The only semi-nice area was the four by four flowerbed tucked away in the corner. It was a little piece of Heaven hidden away in Hell. This is where I found Ryan.

From looking at him from behind his shoulders were heaving slightly, as if he had just been out for a jog. The sleeves of his jacket were pushed up his arms, and as I approached I could see the soil clinging to his fingertips. I came to stand by his side, surveying the turned up dirt and broken stems. Colorful petals were showered over the ground like confetti. I could clearly make out the path of destruction Ryan had created, starting from the now shredded rhododendron bush and ending at the aftermath of the massacre of daylily flowers. It was a beautiful, tragic scene.

Even though I didn’t voice my thoughts, which were something along the lines of, What the hell has Ryan done?, he answered them anyway.

“I wanted to know what it felt like to destroy something beautiful.”

***

I know, I know, what a crappy, short part, I’m sorry. But I’ll be gone Saturday, so I’m not sure I’ll get anything else up during the weekend.

On a side note, what sound would you give to a marker writing? I honestly sat there writing in marker, trying to figure that out xD

At least feeling worthless has its perks. It gives me great inspiration to write.

Make sure you've read the previous part.

***

I surveyed the state of the living room, eyebrows quirking as I stepped in further. The furniture had been removed, every single piece. There wasn’t so much as a chair left. I could see where the furniture used to be, the carpet a much darker and cleaner shade than the surrounding carpet, yet the room was entirely empty. I could hear my breathing echoing off the walls.

My reflexes pushed me upright in bed, and I sat there taking in sputtering breaths. My throat had seemingly closed up as I tried to gasp for air, blood pounding in my ears. Beads of sweat were lining my forehead and I immediately looked to my side, panic heightened as I realized Spencer was no longer lying beside me. Pushing myself off the bed I stormed out of the room, shouting, “Spencer?! Spencer?!”

“Jon?” The answer came from the kitchen, which I raced into. Spencer was making coffee, paused mid-reach for a mug.

“Tell me you aren’t leaving for work early.” I took him by the shoulders, not caring about the frightened expression his features had taken on. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. “Tell me you aren’t leaving early!”

“I’m not, I’m not!” he finally managed, trying to loosen my grip on his arms. After a moment I snapped out of it, releasing Spencer and watching as he brushed himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you Jon?”

I winced as the toaster popped up suddenly, spitting out two pieces of golden brown bread.

“Jon…”

“Nothing, nothing.” I looked back to Spencer, not even realizing that I had been fixated on the toaster. “I’m fine,” I let out a sigh and rubbed my face with the palm of my hand. Spencer gave me a skeptical look before going back to preparing his coffee. I took a seat at the kitchen table, resting my chin on my hand. What a crazy nightmare. I wasn’t even going to try and comprehend the meaning behind my dream. I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand even if I were able to. My eyes flicked up as Spencer walked over and stood by my side, sipping coffee.

“I love you,” I stated, more so to myself than to Spencer.

He smiled unsurely before leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Love you to. I’m going to go get ready. You should do the same, before you’re late to work.” And with that he left.

I studied the surface of the table for awhile, images of dead orange tabbies and empty rooms flashing through my head. My fingers wove through my hair and I shut my eyes, tugging. Maybe I could pull the unwanted dream remnants through my scalp?

Maybe I should call in sick today.

I was never one for running. I was never the fastest, the most agile, but that day I ran like never before. I ran like a meant it. And I did mean it. I ran down Ryan’s street, and then up to the next block of houses, and then onto the highway. I didn’t stop, not once. I ignored the worried glances and prolonged gazes of the other people who I passed, concentrating only on putting my right foot in front of my left, left in front of right, and repeating. Right, left, right left, right, left, trip. My foot caught a crack in the street, legs tangling and body falling to the ground.

Groaning I pushed myself up and rubbed my jaw, opening and closing my mouth painfully. I brushed my elbows off which flushed red, picking myself up off the ground. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to run anymore.

What are you doing? My inner Spencer was glaring at me, hands on hips.

He’s running, and for good reason. You need to get away from Ryan, Jon, he’s trouble. My inner Jon insisted.

I knew I needed to go back, check on Ryan. It was my job. But how the hell was I supposed to face him after that? What was fucked up was that I hadn’t even done anything wrong. What was I supposed to do, let him keep kissing me?! Maybe I should have. What? No, that’s stupid. I did the right thing.

I began walking back to the house, hands shoved deep in my pockets, having resolved nothing. I pushed past anyone in my way, not because I was trying to be rude, but because my mind was off somewhere else. When had things gotten so fucked up? About three days ago, when I decided to kiss Ryan out in the middle of the forest. Yea, that pretty much fucked things up.

I rubbed my head as it began to pound, pushing the issue at hand away and focusing on how many cracks there were in the sidewalk. One, two, three, four, five, six…In fact, the sidewalk was a lot like Ryan; damaged, broken, and in dire need of repaving. But I shouldn’t have to be the one to smooth over Ryan’s creases, I’m just his caretaker, that was it. Was that it? Or was I liable to do more? Do what?

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m talking about,” I muttered to myself, heading back down Ryan’s block. I could see the house clearly now, and my feet automatically slowed. It was like some outside force was pulling me back and away from the house, warning me. But of course, I was too stupid to listen.

The front door was still wide open from when I had raced out of the house. I entered, not making a sound. All was quiet. All was still.

I peered down the hall, Ryan’s door still cracked open. What to do, what to do? I decided it was best to check on Ryan, make sure he was ok. Make sure he hadn’t harmed himself while I was away.

Quietly, I poked my head around his door, surprised to see that the fort had been demolished, Ryan nowhere in sight. I walked in further, checking the closet, and then even under his bed. No Ryan. My breathing was becoming more frantic by the second and I hurried out into the living room, storming through the house like I was Brendon. I checked the pantry, under the table, the garage, the backyard, under the couch cushions. Nothing.

I was on the verge of calling the police, and I imagined what the phone conversation would sound like.

No, there was no way I’d be able to explain this, to the police or anyone else. Frustrated, I rechecked the rooms, and this time, the bathroom.

I was amazed to find a figure lying at the bottom of the bathtub. Sure enough there was Ryan, curled up and asleep, legs drawn in. He didn’t wake, thankfully, and I knelt down, leaning over slightly. His chest was rising and falling ever so slightly, little fluttering breaths escaping his parted lips. There weren’t any tear stains painted on his cheeks, as I had expected.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured before getting up and shutting the bathroom light off, taking a seat in the living room, and reflecting on the days events.

***

I don't like this part, but it needed to be posted ;[

Lyrics belong to Trent Reznor in this chapter.

***

The weather had become increasingly chilly over the past few days. The mornings where I would wake up to the sun rising in the sky were no longer, and I was instead met with an endless blanket of grey cloud. Cloud, not clouds. There were no chunks or patches revealing the blue sky underneath, just a solid stretch of grey, grey, grey, and then more grey. Though the rain had yet to come the wind had been picking up, indicating that autumn was nearing.

So now as I stood outside of Ryan’s house, waiting to be let inside, I was getting lashed in the side of my face by the wind. I rang the doorbell again, twice in a row, getting a bit ticked off that of all days they decided to lock the door, they had chosen this day.

“Oh, hey Jon!” Brendon greeted me after five minutes of standing outside, and I greeted him back with a half smile before pushing inside. “Nasty weather huh?” he stated and started searching around the living room, probably looking for his keys.

“Yea, looks like it’s going to storm.” I gazed out of their front window and watched the trees sway back and forth dangerously.

“Lets hope not,” Brendon muttered. “Ryan hates storms.”

“Really?” I turned around, about to ask Brendon to elaborate, but I didn’t get the chance because he had already left. “Well then…” I sighed and walked off to find Ryan.

It came to my attention that there were no lights on in the house. Sure, it was the daytime, yet the darkening clouds outside didn’t provide much light. That and if what Brendon had told me was indeed correct, I would have expected Ryan to have on every single light in the house.

I knocked on Ryan’s door lightly before entering. At first I was stunned by the condition of his room, but I quickly caught myself, remembering that I wasn’t supposed to be surprised by anything anymore.

“Ryan?” I called, glancing around. The mattress had been completely pulled off the bed and tilted against the wall, creating a triangle shaped cave. One of the openings was blocked off by a blanket that had been draped over, and at the opening on the other end Ryan’s chair had been pulled up, another blanket thrown over, which created some sort of an entrance to the fort.

I didn’t receive an answer back so I decided to drop to my hands and knees, crawling over to the chair, pulling back the blanket, and poking my head through. “Ryan?”

All of the sudden a beam of light shot out from the depths of the fort, blinding me and causing me to jerk back while trying to shield myself with my hand. “What the fuck?” I squinted from behind my fingers, eyes adjusting to sort out Ryan’s figure from inside. “It’s me, Jon, turn off the light.” The beam vanished and I blinked a few times, shaking my head. “What the hell are you doing Ryan?”

“I don’t like storms,” Ryan stated simply. I wanted to tell Ryan that it wasn’t even storming, but refrained. It was probably going to storm later, and arguing with Ryan didn’t do any good to begin with anyway. “You can come in if you want.”

Come in? I withdrew my head slightly so that I was out from beneath the chair, calculating its width. The opening underneath was hardly over a foot wide, only wide enough for a five year old to crawl through. Or Ryan. Still, I was determined to get inside, so I sucked in my stomach and began worming my way through, arms first. Ryan had turned on his flashlight again to light my way as I struggled to get through. I had gotten past up until my hips when I stopped crawling, both because I needed to rest and because I couldn’t fit through anymore. I laid on my stomach with my upper body propped up by my elbows, looking forward to Ryan who I could tell was trying not to laugh.

“I’m too fat for your entrance.”

At this a giggle escaped his lips, causing him to smile. “Could have taken the other entrance.” Ryan motioned back with his head and pulled the other blanket slightly, the side that didn’t have a chair.

I remained quiet for a moment, looking from the blanket, to Ryan, and then moaning, dropping my head. “What’s the point of even having a chair on this side then anyway?” I groaned and looked up.

Ryan shrugged and shifted over to me, smirk playing on his lips. “I was wondering if you would be smart enough to figure it out.”

“Hey!” I reached out with my arm to shove him, but Ryan merely shifted away and out of my reach. “Well I’m coming through the other way then.” I announced and Ryan laughed again. I began to backtrack with much difficultly, seemingly having gained a few more pounds within the five minutes I was underneath the chair. Once I managed to squeeze myself out I walked around to the back, pulling the blanket aside and stepping in.

The fort was actually much bigger than it appeared, and Ryan was now sitting over on the opposite end where I had previously been. I sat down and pulled the blanket back over, the only source of light being from the flashlight now.

“So, you don’t like storms?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I never have.”

It was nearly endearing, the way Ryan looked so much like a frightened child right then, hiding in his fort. “Well there isn’t anything to be afraid of,” I assured. He just looked away, and I could tell that he was silently disagreeing. I also knew that he was referring to something much greater than rain, thunder, and lightning.

Ryan laid down onto his back, and my eyes focused in on another shape besides him, lying down. It had a wide body with a longer neck, and I quickly recognized it as his guitar. The guitar that he ‘didn’t play’.

“Can I see it?” I nodded towards the instrument, Ryan looking over at it, eyebrows knitted and frown placed upon his lips.

Ryan’s voice was a whisper, barely comprehendible as he spoke. “No.” His gaze dropped and his fingers began picking at the carpet. I sighed inwardly. I wasn’t going to get anywhere by asking Ryan anymore questions, so instead I laid down too, gazing up at the blackness. I’m not sure how long we laid without speaking. Maybe it was thirty seconds. Maybe it was thirty minutes. I wasn’t sure, but eventually Ryan’s voice broke through my eardrums. He was still whispering, but to me his voice couldn’t have been louder. “I could play you something, if you want. I’m not that good of a singer though.”

We both sat up at the same time, and I nodded. “Yea, sure.” I was startled as he flicked the flashlight off, my eyes slowly adjusting to see his silhouette pick up the guitar and lay it across his lap, fingers positioned.

I wasn’t even sure Ryan had stopped playing, though his fingers were no longer moving. The darkness was too thick for me to see his expression clearly, yet I remained staring at him, unmoving. I stared at him, wondering how in the world someone could ever be so broken.

The guitar was set down, and Ryan moved forward, inches away from my face. “Thank you for listening Jon,” he muttered before cold lips were pressed to mine.

This kiss was different from the one in my car, in several ways. The one in my car was more of an incident. This time it was reality. This time Ryan knew exactly what he was doing. And this time I knew exactly what I needed to do.

His mouth moved against mine for a few seconds before I pushed him away, more roughly than I had meant to. He looked startled at first, but the look of hurt quickly overpowered it. His jaw clenched tightly, face scrunching up and eyes fogging over. And though I hadn’t thought it to be possible, I had just broken Ryan Ross a bit more.

“Get out.” He shoved me backwards, with little force, yet his tone said everything. “Get the fuck out!” he screamed this time, nearly choking on the sobs that were surfacing in his throat. I opened my mouth (not that I knew what to say), but was quickly met with Ryan’s fist connecting with my cheek. I fell onto my back only to quickly shuffle up, crawling backwards until I was pulling the blanket down.

I stood up once outside of the fort, running out of Ryan’s room, down the hall, and out the front door.

***

And so Jon hops on the drama llama.

“Who’s it supposed to be?” I pointed at one of the many stick figures Ryan was drawing. We sat on the floor of his room making flip books, and it was the first time since I had started working there that I was dreading the end of the day when Brendon would come home.

He held up his finger, indicating for me to wait. Ryan continued doodling on the notepad, flipping to the next page to draw the last frame. Once finished he scooted over to me, and I leaned over his shoulder to watch the short slide. Ryan began flipping the pages and I watched as the stick figure casually began crossing the street. About half way through a car came speeding down the page, running the person over, leaving behind nothing but a few scribbles to represent their innards. The notepad came to the end and Ryan set it down on the floor, stroking Fish who was lying by his leg. “It’s Brendon.”

I swallowed roughly, trying not to let Ryan see how uncomfortable I was. “It’s Brendon?” I sounded more frightened than I meant to.

Ryan simply shrugged. “Yep. Why?”

“It’s just…I…” I was at a loss. For one the day had gone relatively smooth till now, and I really didn’t want to screw it up. Secondly I most certainly did not want to upset Ryan. He seemed in a good mood, minus the crying over ice cream earlier.

“You what?”

I cleared my throat, ordering myself to calm the hell down. “I just thought you guys were friends.” I finished casually, looking away.

Once again he shrugged. “It’s a paper cartoon Jon,” he said in a tone that I had heard often used by Spencer. “Brendon and I are friends, somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Again I failed at sounding composed.

“It’s complicated,” Ryan grumbled, lying down on his stomach and beginning to draw once again. “Sometimes he just wants to get away.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. “What do you mean?”

Ryan leaned up on his elbows, eyes narrowing. “I don’t blame him. He hasn’t really gotten to live a normal life, with having me around. Sometimes he just needs some time for himself.”

I crossed my arms and frowned. Where had this come from? Ryan never seemed bothered by Brendon before. Then again Brendon really wasn’t around much, as far as I saw. But he was at school, so that was understandable. But Brendon isn’t the most normal of characters…then again neither is Ryan. It made me wonder just how good Brendon took care of Ryan when I wasn’t there. I decided to not think about it too much, standing up and excusing myself for a moment. Ryan didn’t look up from drawing as I left his room.

I glanced at the kitchen clock as I walked through, noting the twenty three minutes I had left with Ryan. The orange tinted bottle caught my eye, sitting right where I left it on the kitchen counter. I walked over, picking it up and rolling the bottle between my hand.

Jingle jingle. I listened to the bell ring out above the door, indicating another customer had entered. Ryan was seated across from me with his strawberry cone in a death grip, the ice cream slowly dripping down onto his hand. I pretended that Ryan didn’t look like a crazy frantic mess, and I scanned the other people in the shop instead, listening to them order.

Every once in awhile I would take a small lick at my own chocolate cone, daring to glace over at Ryan who was still gazing out the window, just as he had been since we arrived. I looked away only to find a mother and child waiting in line to order, the little girl’s face turned towards our table. She had two pink bows tied in her light brown hair, matching the rest of her pink attire, such as the little pink Converse fitted to her feet. Her large honey eyes were wide with interest as she continued to watch us, tiny hand held in her mother’s as they walked up to the counter. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Ryan when I saw her.

I could tell by the way her eyes moved in between from Ryan and I that she knew. Knew what I wasn’t sure of, but she fucking knew something, I was sure of it. Damn children and their way of just knowing things.

In order to not be called a child molester I averted my eyes from the little girl, back to Ryan, and then downwards. I traced shapes on the table, which was still sticky from its last occupant. The table was also vibrating slightly due to Ryan bouncing his leg up and down, elbows leaning on the surface.

“Ryan…”

His eyes flicked up, staring back at me blankly for a moment before registering that there was a strawberry river running down his hand. He quickly licked up the stream, tongue running across his hand before he wiped the rest with a napkin. When I realized I had been watching the trail of his tongue I forced myself to look away with reddened cheeks, concentrating on anything but Ryan.

“Jon…”

“Huh?” I snapped out of my trance.

“Can we go somewhere, uh, else?”

What the hell? Ryan motioned over to our left, where the little girl with pigtails was back to watching us, completely uninterested in the vanilla cone being handed over.

“Yea, lets leave.”

We both scooted from the booth in unison, quickly walking out, the bell giving out another jingle. By now the sun was floating high above us, occasionally dipping behind a cloud to hide for a moment, only to come creeping out again. Ryan and I walked down the sidewalk (I had decided it was too nice of a day to drive), making no attempt to talk whatsoever. What was I supposed to say anyway?

I knew what I wanted to say. I’m here for you. But if I were to tell Ryan that, who knew what would happen. He might take my words the wrong way. We might grow too close. We might grow apart.

Too scared to say anything I just continued to walk. Within ten minutes the park came into view, and though neither of us discussed going, we both began walking across the street in that direction. It was Wednesday, meaning that the park was for the most part, deserted, except for the one man sitting on a bench, reading the paper.

Ryan made a beeline towards the swings, and I followed. He sat down on the last swing, and I next to him. For awhile I just sat still while Ryan rocked back and forth gently, dragging the toes of his shoes along the bark chips, uncovering the darker earth below.

“Ya know,” he broke the silence, “I fucking hate ice cream.” With that he let what was left of his cone drop to the ground, which he went on to cover with bark. He let out a long puff of breath like something huge had been taken off his chest, tipping his head towards the sky and letting the sun envelope his face. Ryan flicked the loose hanging bangs from his line of sight before he began swinging higher, hands gripping the chains.

I also now started to swing, letting the wind glide over my face and the sun blind me. I shut my eyes and let my head loll backwards so that I lost all orientation of where I was. I got lost in the steady rhythm of swaying back and forth, mind going blank. I wished I could have stayed like that forever, without a care in the world, the only thing I had to concentrate on being swinging. Why couldn’t life be as simple as swinging? You went forwards, then back, then forwards, and then back again, forever. No complications. No errors. No surprises.

Suddenly my place of nirvana was interrupted by the scrapping of feet against bark and my eyes shot open to see Ryan slowing to a stop, eventually leaping off the swing and landing. I had no choice but to stop myself and follow Ryan as he began walking away.

“Lets go home,” he mumbled to me, and I silently agreed, walking beside him.

I concentrated on not stepping on the cracks as we walked back towards Ryan’s house, side stepping or hopping forward every once and awhile. Ryan seemed to catch on and I caught him smiling, also beginning to avoid the cracks.

“You know Jon, you aren’t so bad.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Yea, you aren’t so bad either Ryan.”

He grinned and shoved my shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll race you back.” I watched for a moment as he began to sprint away, my own feet picking up the pace to run after him.

The next morning everything was, as expected, odd, though I no longer was alarmed or amazed by anything out of the ordinary concerning my job, or anything relating to it. That’s why I wasn’t puzzled anymore when I arrived and Brendon was once again missing in action.

I opened up the door (in fact their door never seemed to be locked at any time), and I could see that Brendon was sitting at the kitchen table; alone. Maybe I would have jumped to conclusions about what had happened to Ryan (had I put too much emotional strain and confusion on him with my kiss grazing of lips, resulting in his tragic suicide?), but that was unnecessary since Ryan was in clear sight on the couch in the living room. The television was off, yet Ryan’s eyes were glued to the black screen as if there was the headline 'NEWSFLASH' printed across the top, the story of an alien space shuttle landing in Texas being told by some reporter.

As I walked forward, slipping my shoes off in the process, I could see that Brendon was spinning a small cylinder shaped bottle between his fingers absently, letting it wobble on the table for a few seconds before it fell to its’ side. A pill bottle? “Hello,” I greeted slowly as I approached, Brendon’s head instantly snapping up.

“Oh, Jon!” Brendon quickly scooted from his chair, eyes coming back to life instantly. “Here.” He shoved the bottle into my hand before rushing around in circles through the kitchen, grabbing at things. “He already had a morning dose. He needs to take another pill in six hours.”

That was the last thing Brendon said before practically running out the door.

I rolled the bottle between my hand, scanning over the label. Lithium? Mood stabilizer? It should have made perfect sense for Ryan to have a prescription for lithium. He was the sort of person that should have had a mood stabilizing medicine. Yet I didn’t understand. Brendon was just now giving me instruction to see to it that Ryan took his meds? Why?

I took a seat by Ryan on the couch, joining in on his non-television watching. “So, how ‘bout them Mets?” I asked casually, clicking my tongue on the roof of my mouth. I shifted to face Ryan, surveying his face.

He looked, to state it very bluntly, dead. He was paler than normal, eyes glazed over and clouded. It was then that I noticed he had his knees drawn in and a blanket over his shoulders.

“Ryan?” I shoved his shoulder lightly.

“What?” He didn’t turn to look at me and his voice was flat. In fact I was sure that I could sit there all day repeatedly pushing his shoulder and going, in the most annoying tone, ‘Hey Ryan, hey Ryan, hey Ryan’, and he wouldn’t have shown the lightest flicker of personality.

Then I got it. It was as if God himself descended down from the Heavens, smacked me in the back of the head and made me see the light. So this was what Ryan was like when he was medicated. I recalled Brendon telling me, on my first day being interviewed (well more like being instantly accepted for the position) that Ryan hated taking his medication. I could now see why.

He was a shell. He was a corpse. He wasn’t the Ryan I knew. And I wanted my ranting son of a bitch psychotic back. I wanted my Ryan. Wait…my Ryan?

Your Ryan? Inner Jon hissed angrily.

Yes, my Ryan. I spat back just as fierce, inner Spencer behind me with his hands on my shoulders, backing me.

“Hey, Ryan,” I spoke softly, pulling myself out from my head. I didn’t think it was healthy, the amount of time I spent arguing within myself with little invisible people. Ryan barely turned to make eye contact, still being engraved in the blank screen in front. “You wanna go get ice cream?”

Suddenly I had run over some sort of emotional road bump in Ryan, and I had run over it with a fucking semi. The damage was extensive. There were no pre-crying flutter breaths, no welling of the tears in his eyes, and no scrunching in the face in an attempt to hold it in. It was like an explosion.

Ryan burst into tears, throwing his head into his knees, going into a full-blown sob fest. All the while I was having a mini panic-attack on the inside. I had offered him ice cream and he was crying. It simply did not compute in my mind. After all, ice cream=complete and total happiness. Simple as that.

Yet Ryan was crying, until the point where he was gasping for air, sides heaving painfully. The entire time he had his head buried in his knees, and when he did look up at me his face was blotchy and shining with tears. I wanted to hug him, but was afraid he’d explode again.

“Ry-”

He broke down once more, turning away and roughly wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Maybe Ryan wasn’t the sort of person who was comforted by ice cream (as hard as that was for me to understand). Maybe I should have offered to take him on a tour of a nuclear war plant? Yea, I could see Ryan being into weapons of mass destruction.

He was reduced to sniffling by the time he turned back around, the skin around his eyes raw from rubbing.

“Hey…hey, I’m sorry.” Though I wasn’t sure what I was sorry for. But I was sorry. I didn’t like seeing Ryan cry. Because when Ryan cried it was like the world was falling apart. Ryan wasn’t supposed to cry. Ryan was supposed to be a fucking badass prick. Ryan was supposed to be tough, collected. So when Ryan cried I was convinced that the apocalypse was nearing.

He wiped his nose against his shoulder, giving himself a few moments to calm. His voice was terribly shaky and cracked as he spoke, “Ice cream sounds good.”

***

 D: :D

I’m still writing this I guess D:

***

I stared at Ryan. His face showed everything; hurt, anger, sadness, fear, and to my surprise, a small glint of happiness. Maybe there was even a bit of relief. He stared back at me, waiting. What do you want me to do, Ryan? I can’t fix everything. But at that moment, I wished I could have fixed everything. It didn’t seem fair though, that he could just expect so much of me, when in the end I would let him down.

“You don’t have to be alone.” I knew I shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have made promises I couldn’t keep. But instead I decided to lie, and Ryan called me on it.

He shook his head. “Yea, I do. And I’m still waiting for someone to prove me wrong.”

Suddenly it was like I had been split in two. My body was pulling me forward while my mind was trying to tug me away. What am I doing? There was simple connection of lips, nothing more. To outsiders it would appear ‘innocent’, almost experimental. But since I already had a boyfriend, who I without any doubt loved, it was far from innocent.

Ryan didn’t kiss me back, yet he didn’t pull away. We just stayed completely still, mouth on mouth. I knew in the back of my mind that this wasn’t what Ryan had meant when he said he didn’t want to be alone. He wasn’t looking for a love affair, just for someone. Yet I didn’t make any attempt to move.

My hand started to travel upwards, without my mind’s consent, resting on the back of Ryan’s neck. I felt him flinch slightly before he pulled away, only enough though so he could then bury his face in the crook of my neck.

“Thank you.” I felt Ryan’s warm breath on my neck.

I jerked back suddenly, rationality kicking in. In a matter of seconds Ryan’s face went from confused to hurt, and I silently cursed myself.

“No, sorry,” I was quick to apologize (and form a lie), stealing a glance at the clock. 11:34. “I just realized that uh, I was supposed to have you home over an hour ago.”

His eyes flicked to the clock as well, Ryan nodding slowly in approval. I let out an internal sigh of relief. Technically it wasn’t completely a lie. Brendon had said he’d be home around eleven, so he was probably wondering where the hell we were , even with leaving him a note. Then again if he were really concerned he would have called.

Starting the car I turned around, heading back down the path and towards the road. It would be another hour and a half till we were home again, and it would be another hour and half driving in silence. An hour and a half to let the guilt sink in and embed itself. An hour and a half to figure out how to tell Spencer.

Would I tell Spencer? It’s not good to lie. Then again what good would come of me confessing that I cheated on him? Ok, it can’t be considered cheating, right? It was hardly a kiss!

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Ryan asked.

Oh. “Nothing, sorry,” I muttered. That was the last thing I said to him for the entire drive.

We arrived back at Ryan’s house around 12:10. I had exceeded the speed limit most of the way there (more than I usually did). The porch light was off, but Brendon’s car was back in the driveway.

“Uh, thanks, Jon.” Ryan stood holding the car door open, making eye contact mostly with the ground.

“Yea. You’re welcome. I mean…yea.” I decided to make eye contact with the steering wheel. For a moment our eyes met before we both looked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ryan nodded his head, shutting the door and making his way up the driveway. I only allowed myself to watch him for a few seconds before pulling away and driving off.

By 12:45 I was home. It really shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did for me to drive there, but unlike on my way to Ryan’s house, I was practically fucking Driving Miss Daisy. The slower I went meant the more time I had to come up with something to say. Even so, when I got back to the apartment my mind was still drawing a blank.

I walked up to the door, slipping in the key as quietly as I could. Of course, on this night the door decided to be particularly noisy when I started to open it and I winced, stopping for a moment. I began to recall Dane Cook’s HBO performance, specifically the part about cheating.

I started opening the door again. Cheaterrr. It squeaked.

That’s when I realized. I realized that the kitchen light was on, and Spencer was sitting at the table. His head was laid down and resting on his arm, and I could see his sides rising and falling. He was asleep.

I slid through the door, shutting it as quietly as possible, and then I stood. I stood in the middle of the room, looking from Spencer, to the ground, to the ceiling, and then repeating. What had I done? I always fuck everything up, don’t I? Jonathan Walker, you, are a fuck up.

I tensed as Spencer began moving around in the seat, turning his head and yawning, eyes blinking open. Being the moron that I am I panicked, rushing across the room and dropping down to the floor, taking cover behind the sofa. What am I hiding from!? I was hiding from nothing, and in my own apartment.

Get up dumb ass! My inner Spencer glared, and for once, my inner Jon agreed.

“Jon, what the hell are you doing?”

I glanced up from the carpet. Spencer was hovering over me, eyes heavy with sleep and hair sticking to the side of his face where he had been resting. Honestly, he looked adorable. I don’t even deserve Spencer.

“Huh?” That was all I could come up with. Think Jon, think.

“You’re on the floor.” He yawned again, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s almost one o’clock.”

“I…” I dropped my contact? No…I don’t wear contacts. “I tripped,” I muttered out lamely. Finally I decided that I should get up off the floor. “And I left a message on your phone, telling you that I was working late. I just got home.” Alright, time to patch things up.

“Yea, I tried calling you.” By now Spencer was nearly half awake, which was bad. The last thing I needed was for him to start asking more questions.

I began to chew the inside of my cheek. “Yea, sorry, my phone’s dead. Hey, you look tired, lets go to bed.”

Spencer looked like he was about to say something, protest maybe, but ended up nodding and walking towards the bedroom. I followed him reluctantly. We both stripped down to boxers, Spencer climbing in one end of the bed and me on the other. He curled up under the sheet, waiting for me to turn around so he could rest his head against my chest (how we slept most nights). I hesitated and lay facing away from him longer than usual. When had things become so awkward? Of course, it was a one-sided awkwardness, seeing as how Spencer had no clue as to what I had done.

Fuck, it isn’t that big of a deal! It was more like the grazing of lips than a kiss, I tried convincing myself.

“Jon?”

“Yea?” Now I did turn around to face Spencer.

“You alright?”

“Yea, I’m fine.” In order to appear normal I smiled, pulling him closer.

He smiled as well, burying his face in the crook of my neck, eyelashes fluttering shut against my skin. “I love you.” I felt his breath tickle my skin, and then the shallow steady rhythm of his chest. I love you too.

That night I lie awake, trying to wash away the image of Ryan’s face pressed against my neck.

***

It was a total of an hour and a half drive, mostly through the mountain road. Ryan hadn’t questioned me on where we were going yet, but I had a feeling that he’d enjoy where I was taking him. The sky had turned violet by the time I turned onto a smaller dirt path.

The tires of my car complained against the dirt and rock road (well, it was more like a path that I’d plowed from driving through countless times). Ryan was sitting up straight and leaning forward, peering out the front windshield. My headlights cleared two tiny paths ahead, but even so, I was finding it difficult to dodge every single bush or stump in my path. Occasionally I’d drive over a piece of wood, making Ryan jolt forward in his seat and then fling back.

Eventually we came to somewhat of a clearing, and by now I knew my way around this place by memory alone. I made sure not to drive over the ledge where the mountains dropped off into a lower forest, but got close enough that our view wasn’t being blocked by trees. I could already see Ryan out of the corner of my eye, leaning forward in interest.

I shut the headlights and engine off, unbuckling myself as Ryan did the same. In the background, under the glow of a crescent shaped moon, stood Mount Rainier. There was a silhouette of pine trees in the far distance, and it seemed like you could simply reach out and pluck them out like toothpicks. The night sky was cloudless, deep blue with thousands of tiny hole punches.

“Sooo,” Ryan spoke up, and I had forgotten what his voice sounded like. Did we really only drive an hour and a half? “So you brought me out into the woods, at night, to look at…?”

I shrugged. When he put it like that, it sounded insignificant. Stupid. But the truth was I had been coming to this place for awhile now, if I ever needed to get away. Some people went to spas, or took island vacations if they needed a little relaxing time, but all I wanted was a tiny spot in the world I could call my own. So that’s what this place was to me, and I had never brought anyone else out here, not even Spencer.

“It’s nice,” Ryan suddenly murmured. He turned to me quickly, excitedly, seemingly on the verge of something brilliant. “Do you ever want to just take a ladder, stand it up on a hill, and try to grab the stars?”

I looked at him, oddly. You really are sounding crazy right now, Ryan. “No,” I answered. “I don’t need a star. I have everything I need.” I reclined my seat back, resting my head. Where had that come from? It seemed that every day I held my job, the more odd and obscure Ryan became.

“You sound so sure.”

“Why, aren’t you?”

Ryan laughed, except it wasn’t like his earlier laugh, which was gentle, sweet. This laugh was bitter, tainted. “You’re telling me you have everything you need? Well Jon, you’re the only person I know who can say that.”

I shut my eyes momentarily. Do I have everything I need? My inner Spencer decided to answer for me, Of course you do. “Why, what else do you need?”

I opened up one eye to see that Ryan was gazing out the window, head tipped to the side in thought.

“Well?” I asked again.

He turned back to me, displaying a look that I had never seen on him before. He looked…afraid.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in slightly.

I nodded.

“I don’t really want to be alone.”

***

Earlier conversation:

Person: Dude, it was so funny, at my birthday last year…wait, you didn’t come to my birthday last year, did you?

Me: …no.

Person: …I didn’t invite you, did I…

Me: Nope

lol =[

I feel like I’m suffocating.

And sometimes I really just want to run out of air.

The next day everything was seemingly normal. As normal as working for a slightly off kilter college student, babysitting his crazy emotionally tortured once inpatient very close friend could be.

I waved to Brendon as he walked out, driving away. I entered the house, joining Ryan (who was looking recovered) in watching The Wizard of Oz. We sat in silence. Everything was normal. No, that’s wrong. Everything was abnormally normal. Ryan wasn’t bitching about anything, wasn’t telling me that my ugly face was distracting him, thus making it difficult to concentrate on the movie. Ryan wasn’t being Ryan, and it was surprising, scary even.

When the end credits are rolling twenty minutes later and the screen has gone black we continued to sit. He’s acting so un-Ryan that I was tempted to smack him. I wondered briefly if he was still sick, maybe his judgment was still clouded as an after effect. But no, Ryan looked fine. Sane even? Maybe that’s what was different. I couldn’t see the fire in his eyes. He no longer looked like the person that would be sitting in a dentist office, and when the receptionist would turn her back to check the time, would slit the throats of everyone else waiting. I couldn’t see it.

It was around six when I got the phone call, the only call I’d ever gotten since starting the job in fact. Ryan and I had been watching the Italian Job (at my suggestion, because Ryan was too fucking out of it to do much of anything other than sit quietly). As I rose from the couch to answer the phone Ryan took no notice.

“Jon. Jon, Jon, Jon.”

It was Brendon.

Brendon. Brendon, Brendon, Brendon? That’s what I wanted to say. “Yes?” I answered instead, quirking an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it.

His voice was rushed and muffled, “Do you think you could stay a few hours extra?” He was practically whispering. “Sorry it’s so sudden, but-”

I cut in before he could ramble too much, “That’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Great, great!” His tone suddenly grew louder, and I could hear people speaking in the background. I couldn’t pick out specific words, there was just talk. He went back to whispering, “I should be home around eleven. That’s alright?”

“Yea that’s fine. Is it alright if I-”

I didn’t bother to finish my sentence, seeing as how the line went dead.

Now that I had extra time, I figured I may as well make good use of it instead of sitting around for a few more hours. After all, Brendon had told me that Ryan and I could go out places. I’d just leave him a note.

Back in the living room Ryan was still in his ‘daze’, eyes trained blankly on the television. “Come on.” I flipped the TV off, starting to slide on my shoes. If Ryan had been himself he would have put up a fight, or at least would have asked where we were going. But he merely slipped on a ratty pair of Converse, following me out into the sunshine.

I intended to get Ryan out of the house. Maybe that was it. Maybe Ryan just needed some fresh air. Fresh air helps clear the mind, right? Maybe it could help Ryan come up with some new snide remarks.

I led him to my car, unlocking the doors.

Must call Spencer to tell him I’m working late. Spencer usually wasn’t one to jump to conclusions or become frantic, but he was very punctual, and the last thing I needed was for him to think something had happened to me. Upon hearing, ‘Hey, either I can’t answer the phone or don’t want to talk to you,’ I was forced to leave a message.

“Hey babe it’s me. I’m working late, don’t wait up for me. I love you.” I spoke with little enthusiasm. I nearly sounded monotone. Spencer would probably ask me what’s wrong when I got home. Damn him for knowing me so well.

“Who’s that?”

I whipped my head around, looking for the owner of the voice. No one else was in my car besides Ryan and I though. Wait, so Ryan speaks again!? I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or afraid.

“Hey,” he snapped when I didn’t respond, and I realized he was wearing the bitch face that suited him so well. Nice to see you’re back Ryan.

“Oh…” Do I tell him the truth or lie? Lying is easier, and will produce less of a chance of receiving physical pain, but eventually the truth always somehow surfaces. “Boyfriend.” I decided to speak quickly while I started the car, hoping that maybe the sound of the engine would obscure the word.

I braced myself for Ryan’s reaction. Snickering, a look of disgust, a hit to the face. Nothing came though. Ryan slid down in the seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard, and I decided to start driving. So Ryan isn’t a homophobe. Somehow this surprised me.

I turned the radio to the local alternative station, mostly so we didn’t have to deal with the awkward silence that had seemed to have recently adopted the air around us. Ryan looked out the window and I looked at the road ahead. I should have felt normal. Comfortable. I wasn’t, not at all.

“You live with him?” It was more of a statement than a question. Ryan slid his feet down, sitting upright. “Your boyfriend I mean.”

“Yea.” I tried sounding nonchalant as I shrugged, eyes never leaving the street.

“For how long?”

Why all the personal questions? I counted the years, and then the months. Two years and soon to be two months this October. Had it really been that long? “Uh, a little over two years,” I muttered out, merging onto the highway. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. Ryan just wasn’t the person to say, all casual like, ‘shoot’. I didn’t laugh though, afraid it may trigger the rage inside. “Where did you meet Brendon?” True, I already knew the answer, but I was interested in what he’d say.

“Hospital. I went in again when I was seventeen.” His tone was calm, but I noted the drumming of fingers against his knee.

“And you guys have lived together ever since?”

He shifted in his seat. More drumming fingers. “Pretty much.”

“Why were you in?”

And that’s when Ryan exploded. It was so sudden, so unexpected, like a lightning strike, that I wasn’t even in shock. I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t sure what to feel.

Ryan turned towards me, no longer restrained by the seatbelt, fingernails digging into his seat. “You want to know why the fuck I was in the hospital?! You want to know Jon!?”

I kept driving. I knew I didn’t need to tell him that, yea, I did want to know. Ryan was going to tell me anyway now.

His voice rose to a scream. “Because everyone at school was a fucking asshole and made sure that I felt like a useless piece of shit! No one wanted to be associated with me, no one even wanted to fucking look at me! They acted like I was the fucking plague! And where were my parents? My mom was a fucking drunken slut and my dad was a fucking pushover, still! So you want to know what I did to make them pay attention, because being fucking hospitalized at age nine wasn’t enough! I carved my arms up like they were fucking jack-o’-lanterns on Halloween night! You would think that they would have paid attention then, when they found me in the bathroom passed out and swimming in my own blood, but no, my mom didn’t fucking care, and my dad was so hung up on my mom being a tramp that he couldn’t see that I was fucking hurting too!”

By now Ryan’s chest was heaving and his face had turned red, eyes flashing. “So there you have it Jon, my pathetic little sob story, and don’t you fucking dare fake any sympathy for me.”

I went through the comforting phrases in my head. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘God your parents are jackasses.’ ‘Do you want to go out for ice cream?’ None of them fit, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “I knew. Brendon told me about a week ago.”

Ryan drew his legs up onto the seat and rested his chin on his knees, much like the day when he caught me reading off of his bedroom wall. I wondered if he had heard me. Maybe I should repeat myself? “Brendon told me, because I asked.”

Nothing. Ryan turned his face towards the window, his complexion slowly returning to normal. Maybe he didn’t care that Brendon had told me. Maybe he cared so much that he didn’t know how to react. Maybe I’m over thinking this.

From the time Ryan had started his rant I hadn’t noticed that the radio station had become increasingly fuzzy, as we were now heading further into the forest. I decided to just shut the music off all together, rolling down the windows instead. The sunrays seeped into the car without a single cloud to obstruct them. We were on a two lane road now, solid mountain to our right and forest to our left. Each time we passed a tree there was a swish.

I counted them. Tree, tree, tree, tree…

“I was walking home one day, from school.” I glanced over and Ryan’s eyes were still focused out the window. He sniffled, wiping away invisible tears. Tree, tree, tree. “I hated the fucking bus and it was only a twenty minute walk, so it wasn’t a big deal. It was raining that day, pretty hard, but I don‘t mind the rain. Why worry about something you can’t control.” I strained to hear him. Tree, tree, tree. “I was walking, and a car was driving by.” Tree, tree. “It slowed. At first I thought it was just going to pull into a driveway, but it didn’t, it just slowed in the middle of the street. The driver’s window rolled down, and I could see that there were three people inside. Two seniors and a junior.” Tree, tree, tree, tree, tree. “I kept walking, faced the ground. I didn’t have friends, much less upperclassmen.” Tree. “Then the driver leans out. I’ve seen him in the halls. All around he seems like a nice guy. Then he shouts out at me, ‘Should have gotten a ride!’” Tree, tree, tree, tree. I wind around the curving road. The speed limit sign says 30. I’m going 45. Tree, tree. “They drive off, snickering.”

Ryan stopped talking now, except I wanted him to go on. I wanted him to finish the story, tell me the part where the next day he went to school, drew out his pocket knife and sliced open the kids in the car, letting them bleed to death. I wanted a happy ending. I wanted justice, for Ryan. I wanted something. But Ryan remained quiet.

I felt like I should say something. Something to show him he’s not alone, that everyone has shit days, everyone has bad times. The problem was that I didn’t think that the time I ran over my pet turtle with my scooter counted as a parallel example. Maybe some really do have it worse than others.

“I thought my junior year would be better,” Ryan started up again, “ya know, my class were now the asshole upperclassmen. Problem was that everyone decided to separate me from the rest. I was like a sheep trying to fit in with a pack of wolves, it just doesn’t work. I remember it was the first day of that new school year, and I had English first period. AP Literature and Composition. It’s supposed to be challenging, y’know, and the first assignment we get is simple, first grade. Everyone got a piece of paper and taped it to their back. Then we were supposed to go around to everyone and leave one genuine compliment anonymously. The class ends and when I take my paper off I have two compliments out of thirty students.” Ryan has to stop now to regain composure, tears threatening. “One said that I have a great smile. The other said that I always have good answers when I’m called on in class.” Ryan pauses to take a breath. His voice is becoming shaky, and I wonder if he’s going to cry. “Insults,” he chokes out before stopping himself, turning away. I can see that he’s struggling not to cry. I drive a moment longer, considering what to say.

“I didn’t like school much.” I tell him. It’s a molehill compared to a mountain, and it’s that fact that cuts the tension in the car.

I was still speeding through the twisted road, ignoring the yellow diamond shaped warning signs that informed me of landslides and rough pavement. The sun was sinking outside, the sky glowing a deep amber.

Ryan turned to look at me, now sitting cross-legged in the seat. “Me neither.”

And really, all I could do was laugh. I laughed but I felt like I wanted to cry. Maybe I would do both. Suddenly Ryan was laughing next to me, only his laughs were quiet, secret. I could tell that his laughs were rare and special, and not just anyone got the opportunity to hear them.

We laughed as we drove through a tunnel, and I honked the horn repeatedly. There were no other cars around, it was just us, racing through the forest. Was this freedom? Maybe it was just a little piece of sanctum. It didn’t matter, because at that moment I felt safe, alive, and I knew Ryan was feeling the same. I felt like I’d done something right, for once.

We didn’t speak at all the rest of the drive. Not one word. Ryan was smiling. It was to himself, but I saw it, and in turn I smiled back.

***

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