Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3927853.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Panic!_at_the_Disco, Fall_Out_Boy, My_Chemical_Romance, Alternate
      Universe_-_Fandom, College_Life_-_Fandom, Twenty_One_Pilots
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Brendon_Urie, Linda_Ignarro/Spencer_Smith, Ray_Toro/Mikey_Way,
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way, Patrick_Stump/Pete_Wentz, William_Beckett/Gabe
      Saporta, Ryden_-_Relationship, Peterick_-_Relationship, Rikey_-
      Relationship, frerard_-_Relationship, Jenna_Black/Tyler_Joseph, Josh_Dun/
      Ryan_Ross, Josh_Dun/Ashley_Frangipane_|_Halsey
  Character:
      Ryan_Ross, Brendon_Urie, Pete_Wentz, Frank_Iero, Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way,
      Ray_Toro, Josh_Dun, Tyler_Joseph, Spencer_Smith, Patrick_Stump, William
      Beckett, Gabe_Saporta, Ashley_Frangipane_|_Halsey, Travis_Barker
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Soulmates, College, University, grad_school, Psychology,
      Hurt, Comfort, brendon's_like_ten_when_ryan_meets_him_so_that's_the
      underage_tag, nothing_actually_happens_until_brendon's_eighteen, angels
      and_shit_but_not_actually, wings_are_cool, i'm_shit_at_tagging, Angst,
      like_a_plethora_of_angst, i_may_have_made_someone_cry, super_sorry, Josh
      FUN, GET_IT, mentions_of_suicide_attempt/suicides, it's_a_happy_ending_I
      promise, contains_alternate_ending, cause_people_wanted_josh_and_ryan_so,
      why_the_fuck_not
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-05-12 Completed: 2016-05-06 Chapters: 24/24 Words: 207878
****** Two Vatos Locos Full of Carnalismo and Inamoratos ******
by wellthisisprettyrisque_(collettephinz)
Summary
     You dream with your soulmate. That's how you learn who you're meant
     to spend the rest of forever with. It's simple, really, almost too
     easy. There's no struggle unless your soulmate lives miles upon miles
     away. At least, that's what usually happens.
     At first, Ryan thinks he's sick. That he's messed up or broken-
     - maybe that's why he didn't dream with his soulmate for so long. But
     then he does, and fuck. Of course his soulmate is a fucking trauma
     case.
      
     (a.k.a. i should never write my own summaries, super sorry, i think
     it's better than that)
     (also it's complete so like have fun)
     (the sequel is up! "Bright Eyes")
Notes
     so, really, brendon is horribly abused. and it's not detail in this
     first chapter, but it will get detailed once brendon's verbal
     functions become more attuned with age. he and ryan are meant to be a
     thing, but there's nothing sexual there until brendon's 17, ryan just
     struggles with brendon's age versus his age and what he is morally
     capable or incapable of a lot.
     so, yeah, if that bothers you then that bothers you. fair warning and
     all that jazz.
     if you're fine with it, read on. i hope it's as fun for you to read
     as it is for me to write.
***** I Woke Up to a Dream, and It Was the Best I've Ever Seen *****
Spencer had his first dream with his soulmate when he was twelve and he’d been
sleeping over at Ryan’s house. Ryan remembered it vividly, because Spencer had
started smiling in his sleep and talking to himself. Then, Ryan hadn’t been
able to wake him up until it was well into the afternoon of the following day.
When Spencer finally had woken up, he’d talked nonstop about a girl named Linda
and how awesome he was.
Ryan became very excited for his first dream when he was thirteen after his
best friend had his own first dream.
When Ryan was fourteen and in high school, he met Pete Wentz and they quickly
became best friends. Pete Wentz had his first dream with his soul mate on the
school bus on the way to a marching band competition. It was about a kid two
years younger than him named Patrick who went to a rival high school. Spencer
had been jealous because while Pete’s soulmate lived only a few city lines
away, Spencer’s lived in LA while they all lived in Chicago.
Ryan was jealous because he hadn’t had his dream yet.
When Ryan was fifteen, he met William Beckett and Gabriel Saporta, soulmates
who’d known each other since they were babies. They’d had their shared dream
while William was at Gabe’s house and had just smiled at each other when they
woke up, like they’d known it all along. Ryan didn’t doubt they had known when
he saw videos of them as kids.
Ryan was kinda pissed that he hadn’t had his dream yet.
When Ryan was sixteen, he met a guy named Gerard Way who was a year above Ryan
in his art class. Three weeks into the class, Gerard fell asleep in class
during a lecture day and dreamed with his soulmate, Frank Iero. Ryan Ross had
Frank Iero in his Economics class next period. He told Gerard the second Gerard
was able to get the guy’s name out. Needless to say, Ryan didn’t see Frank the
next period because he was too busy trading secrets and spit with Gerard.
Ryan felt a bit nervous that maybe he wouldn’t ever dream with his soulmate.
Gerard’s brother dreamed about his soulmate that lived in LA, possibly near
Linda, so Mikey and Spencer planned to go to LA right then, that summer, when
Ryan was seventeen and scared he wouldn’t dream with his soulmate even into his
senior year. Spencer was gone and Spencer was the only person who could really
talk Ryan out of a bad thought, save Pete, but Pete was taking Patrick to
Hawai’i because Patrick had never been on a vacation in his life. Neither had
Ryan, but Pete wasn’t in love with Ryan so who cared if Ryan had been on
vacation or not?
Ryan had a horrible summer.
Ryan had a horrible senior year.
Ryan had horrible nights of lying awake and wondering what was wrong with him
and why he didn’t have a soulmate.
He went to a doctor, he went to a therapist, he even went to a fucking palm
reader that had tons of hits and a cultish following. No one could tell him
what was wrong with him. They tried to console Ryan with stories of persons who
never dreamed, but still found their soulmates. Ryan knew those were bullshit.
He knew the only reason you wouldn’t have a dream would be if your soulmate was
already dead. Stillborn or murdered or something awful.
Point was, Ryan’s soulmate had to be dead.
He made a pact with himself. If Ryan didn’t dream of his soulmate by twenty-
one, he’d kill himself. The thought of facing a world that wasn’t meant to be
faced alone without anyone by his side made him sick. Pete had shouted at Ryan
when he’d told him that, but Spencer had just nodded and smiled sadly. Ryan
hadn’t even tried to tell Gerard or Frank. He knew it would upset them most of
all, after Gerard’s own suicide attempt when he’d been sixteen. Everyone was
getting ready to graduate and Ryan couldn’t bring himself to bring them down
with his loneliness.
The night of graduation, Gabe had everyone over at his house. Ryan had almost
skipped it, almost stayed home, but then he remember he wouldn’t be the only
person without their soulmate in the house to make out with. Ryan and Mikey had
grown super close, bonding over their lack of dreaming, until Mikey had
dreamed. Ryan had gotten him a messenger bag covered in Anthrax patches, all
rare and collectable, because he didn’t want his father’s money going to waste,
right? Anthrax was Mikey’s favorite band. Mikey and him weren’t the same
anymore. Ryan felt his loneliest when surrounded by his friends that all had
someone to love.
So he got roaring drunk, bad enough to rival his father, and everyone else got
drunk with him. They swam in Gabe’s pool and Pete dived into the water from a
second story window. Gerard almost convinced Frank to fuck him on the back
porch. William broke a chair and Spencer was on the phone with Linda as he got
steadily more drunk. Everyone had a roaring time, except Ryan. He almost died
of alcohol poisoning that night. No one noticed when Ryan stumbled into the
bathroom and vomited poison flecked with blood, passing out on the tiled floor,
barely breathing.
That was when he dreamed.
And it wasn’t nice dream.
. . .
Ryan’s eyes flew open and he looked around the tiny room. There were cracks in
the walls and peeling paint. He could smell something weird, and when he saw
the red marks on the door in front of him, scratched carved into the wood, he
knew what he smelled was blood. Ryan reached out cautiously, wanting to touch
the doorknob just to see what it would feel like. He flinched and pulled his
hand back sharply when he discovered the doorknob was scalding hot, like there
was a fire on the other side.
“Who are you?”
Ryan whirled around and stared.
There was a small boy, huddled in the corner. Ryan couldn’t make out much about
him in the dark room, but he knew this kid was hurting and scared.
“How’d you g-get in here?”
Ryan paused. “This is a dream,” he said dumbly. “This… This is a dream.”
“Who are you?” the boy asked again.
“I’m Ryan,” Ryan said. “Who are you?”
The boy was silent for a long moment. “Brendon.”
“Brendon,” Ryan repeated in a soft voice. He began to move cautiously to the
boy huddled in the corner. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his instincts
knowing that Brendon was scared of him because he’d been hurt by people before.
That was the only thing that made sense. “Can I sit beside you?”
“Are you sure this is a dream?” Brendon whimpered.
Ryan nodded. “I didn’t fall asleep here.”
“Okay,” Brendon whispered.
Ryan moved slowly and when he reached Brendon, he moved to go down on his knees
so he was at height with the terrified boy. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he
repeated.
“Okay,” Brendon said again.
Ryan moved a few more inches and sat against the wall beside the boy. He wanted
to hold him. Ryan reached out with his arm. Brendon flinched away, staring at
Ryan with wide, scared eyes. “Please stop,” the boy choked out. Ryan felt sick.
“Okay,” Ryan said, sitting back. Brendon wrapped his arms around himself and
turned his head to look at the wall.
They didn’t speak or even make eye contact for what felt like hours.
Ryan spent the time letting his eyes adjust and take in what he could of
Brendon’s body. It was a dream, though, so the darkness wasn’t absence of
light, but true darkness. It was the color black thrown around the room so it
was hard to make out much of anything.
Still, he could see enough. Brendon was pale and skeletal, thin and probably
ashen skinned. He could tell Brendon had either dark brown or black hair. It
was knotted and messy and unkempt and Ryan could only imagine how painful it
would be to try and brush out the knots. There were marks on Brendon’s skin,
burns and cuts and bruises. His wrists were the worst, like he’d been tied up
or tied down. Ryan felt sick just thinking about it.

Then, Brendon let out this tiny noise of distress, and he was suddenly gone.
He didn’t pop out of existence or anything, he was just there one moment, then
gone the next like he’d never been there in the first place.
Ryan stared at the empty space.
. . .
Then, he woke up in Gabe’s bathtub, being hit by frigid water from the shower-
head. He sputtered and shook and sat up too quickly, knocking his skull on the
wall as his head span.
“Fuck, Ryan,” he heard to his right. Ryan craned his head to look and was
surprised to see literally everyone in the bathroom, all of them staring at him
like he’d either grown a second head or was dying.
Pete was the one in front of him, speaking. He was crying. Ryan stared at his
face and the way his eyes were red and irritated, streaks of light against his
face where Ryan was sure tears had fallen.
“Ryan,” Pete whimpered.
Ryan stared for a moment longer. “What happened?” he finally asked.
“You, you were passed out on the floor,” Bill said. Ryan saw that he was
shaking. “Ryan, there, there was blood in the sink. There was blood, you were
bleeding, Ryan. W-we couldn’t find your pulse. Patrick’s calling an ambulance.”
“Don’t,” Ryan said. “I can’t afford that bill.”
William whimpered again, but pulled away from Gabe and rushed out, probably to
find Patrick to tell him to call off the ambulance.
“What happened, Ryan?” Pete demanded, voice shaking. “You fucking said you were
gonna wait to fucking kill yourself, you asshole!”
“I didn't mean to,” Ryan mumbled. Then, “I-I had a dream.”
Pete paused. “What happened in it?”
Ryan stared past them. “… He’s just a kid,” he whispered. “He’s a fucking kid,
Pete, and he’s so fucking scared…”
Pete stared at Ryan. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
Ryan nodded and just shut his eyes, relaxing in the cold water.
. . .
No one left Ryan alone after that. They were all scared he’d drink himself to
death, again. Ryan didn’t even want to bother telling them otherwise. He
couldn’t think past the dream. He couldn’t stop thinking about Brendon.
“That age gap must be atrocious,” Gerard said from where he was sitting on his
bed in the basement. Ryan was over at the Way household with Frank. Gerard was
also on summer break from art school. “I mean, you said he was a kid? Like, an
actual kid. A little kid with what? What did he look like?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said for what could have been the millionth time. “It was
too dark. There was blood.”
“Jesus,” Frank groaned. “Jesus, Ryan. Jesus.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed hollowly. “Yeah.”
“Gee, do you have any of that weed left?” Frank asked. “Ryan deserves it.”
Gerard nodded and stood. Ryan watched him with learned apathy.
“It just sucks,” Frank kept saying. “Like, not only is your soulmate a fucking
kid, he’s also, probably, some trauma victim. What if he gets fucked up? What
if he becomes an abusive asshole? What if he dies?”
“Stop talking,” Ryan ordered in a hush. Frank shut up.
Gerard came back with a rolled joint and lit the end, handing it to Ryan. Ryan
took it but didn’t bring it to his lips. He stared at the embers as they
burned.
“What was Pete talking about?” Gerard asked softly.
Ryan looked up at him. “What?”
“He said you said you were gonna wait to kill yourself.”
Ryan looked at him. And looked and looked and tried to get himself to feel
something more than indifference. “Yeah,” was all he said in response.
Gerard looked distressed. “W-why would you do that?”
“I wouldn’t expect any of you to live without your soulmate,” Ryan replied
simply. “Why should I face this world alone? We were never meant to do this
alone. And I know that I’d eventually lose all of you. You’re happy in your
companionships and shit. I’d have had no one forever. I don’t want to do this
alone, Gee.”
Gerard just looked away. Ryan felt bad for making him upset, but he knew Gerard
understood, otherwise he would’ve pressed the issue.
“I’m sorry, Gee,” Ryan said, just because he didn’t want to be the one to put
that look on Gerard’s face and let it remain. Gerard nodded and reached out,
pulling Frank into his chest for comfort. Ryan was very jealous.
“Have you slept since then?” Frank asked from where he sat in Gerard’s lap,
Gerard’s arms around Frank’s waist, Gerard’s face in Frank’s neck.
Ryan shook his head. “Don’t know if I want to,” he admitted. “I want my
soulmate. More than anything. But I feel like a monster cause he’s so young.
And he’s so fucking little and he’s just, like, terrified. Probably abused. I
tried to get out of the room but the doorknob burned my hand. And I don’t know
where he is and I feel like he doesn’t know either. How am I supposed to find
him? How am I even gonna do anything if I do?”
“Maybe you should call the police?” Frank suggested. “I mean, I’ll bet they
could do something. Anything, really. If the kid’s being abused, you should
definitely get the cops on this.”
“I’m gonna take care of him,” Ryan said suddenly.
Frank and Gerard both watched him for a moment, waiting for him to continue and
explain.
“I’m gonna take care of him,” Ryan repeated. “I won’t know where he is for a
very long time, probably. I’ll just have the dreams. I’ll learn how to make him
feel okay. I’ll learn how to make him feel better and handle what’s happening.
I can help him.”
“How?” Gerard asked.
Ryan faltered. Then, “I’ll go to college.”
“College?” Frank echoed incredulously. “Dude, there’s no way in hell your dad
would help put you through that. And you don’t have the best grades, remember?
What the hell can college do for you?”
“I’ll study psychology,” Ryan said firmly. “Or, or medicine. Something to help
him.”
“You’re not smart enough for either of those,” Frank deadpanned.
“I don’t care,” Ryan shot back. “I’m going to take care of him. I have to.” He
glanced to Frank and Gerard. “I have to,” he repeated. “You know I do. I, I’m
meant to be with him for the rest of my life. I’m gonna help him. I’m gonna
help him feel okay. I’m gonna save him.”
Gerard nodded. Frank grimaced and didn’t say anything.
“I’m gonna do it,” Ryan said to himself.
The joint had burned to the end and burnt Ryan’s fingers. He let it happen
because he wanted to understand the pain Brendon felt.
. . .
Ryan applied to quite a few universities and was surprised by how many actually
accepted him. He barely had a 3.0 grade average, so he assumed that the
universities were desperate. Ryan chose the most straightforward college that
was thankfully in Chicago still, so he wouldn’t have to worry about crossing
state lines and raising the already costly tuition rates he was bound to be
subjected to. He chose the University of Chicago because, apparently, their
psychology department was actually pretty decent. Plus, it was the cheapest
regarding costs.
Ryan knew he would not get any help from his father for this. The man had
barely left his shitty armchair since Ryan was five and his mother walked out
the door with a snide comment of how Ryan wasn’t worth bringing with. Ryan was
over that. He had amazing friends and he’d finally dreamed with his soulmate.
Granted, his soulmate was being horribly abused and would probably have way
more than a few issues by the time Ryan actually got to him, but he could
handle it. He’d been thrown his fair share of curveballs throughout his life,
he could handle a few more.
Plus, Ryan found out that Pete was going to the same place as him and they’d
already signed up as roommates. Well, not officially. But they were going to
fight for it so it was basically guaranteed at this point. Pete was a stubborn
fuck. He was studying Physical Education on the side when he was really going
to focus on kickstarting his band.
What really sucked was Spencer and Mikey moving away, at least temporarily.
They both wanted to be with their soulmates. Spencer was actually moving to LA,
permanently, while Mikey was taking a year off school to sort of his thoughts
and ideas and desires and dreams for the future. Ryan was happy for both of
them, he really was, but it would’ve been nice to have either of them around.
Spencer was his blood, basically, and Mikey got Ryan faster than anyone ever
had. He wished they were both here so he could go to them in the middle of the
night instead of calling them and taking the fifty-fifty chance that they
answered. And fifty-fifty was an optimistically unrealistic estimation.
Ryan had once dreamed of being in a band. He still did. But Brendon needed him.
So Ryan was going to put his dream on hold, even if it was permanently out of
the picture.
. . .
But the summer was still awful.
Ryan dreamt every night with Brendon and they got nowhere.
Brendon would barely let Ryan into his sphere of personal space of about five
feet. Ryan still only ever saw darkness when he looked at the kid, only ever
saw burns and bruises and cuts. Ryan’s body ached with the pain he knew Brendon
was feeling every time.
Sometimes, Ryan would wake up in such a horrible state that he’d have to
stumble to the toilet and vomit stomach acid. Some days, Ryan wouldn’t eat. He
wouldn’t move from the bed, he wouldn’t do a thing. He could feel the pain
Brendon was in and it would shut his entire body down.
Ryan’s soulmate was being tortured and Ryan couldn’t get to him.
He felt useless until the night before his first day of courses.
. . .
“I’m at school,” Ryan said. “Going to school, really. I’m gonna major in
psychology, maybe even get a doctorate, to help you.”
Brendon moved for the first time in weeks.
“What?” he asked in a tiny voice, vulnerable and young.
“I’m going to help you,” Ryan said softly.
Brendon bit his lip.
“Ryan?” he called out. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” Ryan said. “My birthday’s in fifteen days.”
“I’m ten,” Brendon said.
. . .
Ryan woke up laughing and crying.
When he told Frank why, he knew he’d never forget the look of confused disgust
he saw on Frank’s face.
Ryan had felt a little like a monster his whole life. Now he knew why.
. . .
“We know it’s not your fault,” Gerard told Ryan as they helped him and Pete
unpack. “We know, Ryan. You can’t help how old Brendon is. And who knows, maybe
there have been lots of people like that. I mean, the age gap is under ten
years, so it’s not horrible, right?”
“Not horrible,” Ryan scoffed. “I’m gonna watch this kid grow up. It can’t be
helped. He’ll probably hate me when he understands what’s happening. What it
means. Like Frank does.”
“Frank doesn’t hate you,” Gerard sighed. “Seriously, he wasn’t even mad at you.
I talked to him about it, he was just shocked. Like I said, he knows it wasn’t
your fault. Isn’t your fault. Ryan, no one is even close to understanding how
or why these dreams even happen to us, and they’re even further from
understanding how the world knows our soulmate. If you ask me, a lot of things
that are considered taboo these days won’t be in the next generation.
Everything’s changing. It always has been.”
“I just don’t want to be a freak,” Ryan confessed as he dropped a duffel full
of clothes onto the sidewalk. “I don’t… I’m not a freak. I can’t be. I didn’t
choose this, the world did, or whatever. So why do I feel like I’m the horrible
person?”
“Because, generally speaking, when there are reports of an adult male being in
a romantic relationship with a prepubescent boy, they’re pedophilic and rapey,”
Gerard said.
“So I’m a pedophile and a rapist?” Ryan asked. “Thanks, Gee. I feel so much
better.”
“No, like…” Gerard faltered and sighed again. “You’d never touch Brendon, Ryan.
Not like that. Not until he was old enough and only if he wanted you to. You’d
never hurt him or manipulate him or use him. You’d never make him feel
uncomfortable or violated. You care about him and you’re going to college just
to help give him future. You’re the furthest thing from those types of men.”
“I just don’t want Brendon to look at me like I’m something to fear,” Ryan
choked out.
“He won’t,” Gerard promised. “He knows you care, okay? I’m sure he does. And
when he’s older, you know, maybe he’ll be weird about it at first, but you’re
soulmates for a reason. You’re together till the end. That’s the beauty of it.”
“I think it’s fucked up,” he mumbled. “That we can’t just fall in love
anymore.”
Gerard shrugged. “I’d rather know who it is and try and find them rather than
sift through a bunch of people and just get hurt.”
“Find him?” Ryan repeated, smirking a bit. “Frank was in my next class. You
didn’t have to find anyone. He was less than a mile away from you, Gee. You had
the luckiest match up in all the world, do you know how rare it is to live in
the same state as your soulmate, let alone the same school?”
“I got lucky,” Gerard shrugged. “Honestly, it was probably best that way. I
wouldn’t have lasted much longer without him.”
“I know,” Ryan mumbled. “I’m glad he was so close.”
Gerard nodded. “Do you think you could ever fall in love with Brendon?”
Ryan bit his lip. “… What if I already am?”
“Isn’t that a bit early?” Gerard asked, looking a bit worried. “I mean, you
said he was ten. Are you actually already in love with him?”
“I don’t think so,” he sighed. “I just want to know how far you guys will stay
with me.”
“We won’t abandon you just because your soulmate is a bit, uh, young.”
Ryan shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
. . .
The first week of college, Ryan developed narcolepsy that he would not recover
from for years.
It was awful
He’d black out in class, in the shower, in the middle of the street. He was
covered in bruises because he was never able to catch himself. He was always
asleep before he hit the floor.
The first semester was a blur of unconsciousness. Ryan tried taking drugs, but
it was all deemed useless, especially after the doctors found out about the
fact that, every time Ryan fell asleep, he dreamed with his soulmate. They told
him of cases where sleep was connected between two soulmates. One would fall
asleep with the other and it was usually a really good sign, physical evidence
of the power of the bond between the two. Ryan felt sick every time, because he
knew Brendon wasn’t falling asleep. Brendon was being beaten unconscious and
Ryan was taking the fall with him.
He didn’t begrudge Brendon. He’d wake up in the same darkness with Brendon
curled in the corner, protecting his body with his own limbs. Ryan would always
move carefully, step to him with firm footsteps so Brendon could hear him
approach. Then he’d sit beside the small boy and talk about his day.
It was a technique he’d learned from his Psych101 professor. He’d gone up to
the professor and asked questions about trauma patients. The woman had been
very eager to tell Ryan what she could, gushing on and on about how happy she
was to have an interested student. Ryan took mental notes on everything she
said before writing them down in an actual notebook that had Brendon’s name
written in the top right corner of the cover.
This was the only one that seemed to work. Ryan talked about his day, putting
in all the details he could. Not only was he providing Brendon with a
distraction, but he was also helping the boy feel like a part of Ryan’s life
(which he was). All these details helped Brendon connect himself to another
world that wasn’t his own, at least while he was asleep. It gave him an escape
and it let him know, subconsciously, that Ryan cared about him and wanted
Brendon in his life.
So Ryan would fall unconscious in random, sometimes dangerous places and ramble
on and on about his life to help Brendon.
The Sunday night before finals week was when Ryan first saw a sign of him and
his talking actually getting somewhere with Brendon. He’d been talking about
Pete (who was doing well, jesus, straight A’s student and a pro at balancing
Patrick and Ryan and school) when Brendon had lifted his head, just an inch,
and asked, ”what does Patrick look like?”.
Ryan had paused only for a second before explaining everything he could about
Patrick with a huge smile, so fucking proud of Brendon for working past the
fear that so obviously cripples him. He’d been so proud of Brendon. He still
was.
But passing out constantly wasn’t constructive to his grades and Ryan struggled
with the anxiety of his studies, his work (because he didn’t have anyone to
vouch for him to get more lucrative loans, so a lot of his education was out of
pocket (Pete’s parents were angels and were paying for Ryan’s share of the
housing and he was eternally grateful)), and Brendon’s wellbeing. He knew what
his main priority was. Brendon was the most important part of his life. It just
sucked that everything else weighed on heavily on him that he started having
nightmares whenever he wasn’t with Brendon.
Pete would have to wake him up. That was the worst part. Opening his eyes and
seeing the fear on Pete’s face. Sometimes Ryan would be crying, other times
he’d be screaming his throat raw. He was constantly at his breaking point and
all he saw in these nightmares was Brendon. Brendon being hit, kicked, choked,
broken and skinned and tortured by monsters with blurry faces and cruel
laughter. And Brendon would sob and beg and plead for Ryan to come save him,
but Ryan never could. He couldn’t move in the nightmares. He was so frustrated
and worn out by these nightmares on top of everything else that he threw his
everything into finding ways to help Brendon while he was asleep.
Everything was fine, until Ryan realized Pete was watching Ryan fall apart and
intended to do something about it.
. . .
“Medication?” Ryan repeated, scowling. “You think drugging me is going to make
thing better? What if they stop the dreams? What if they fuck up the
connection? What if I lose Brendon, Pete? What the fuck do I do then?”
“You’re about to fucking keel over!” Pete cried out, angry to mask his fear.
“You don’t even notice, but I can see your fucking ribcage!”
Ryan frowned. “Bullshit,” he mumbled, pulling up his shirt. Holy shit. That was
his ribcage. “Oh…”
“Yeah,” Pete choked out, angry tears in his eyes. “Oh, Ryan. Fucking oh. You’re
fucking dying.”
“I’m not dying,” he mumbled. “Just… Stressed.”
“Stressed?” Pete scoffed, the sound wet with emotion. “You’re running your self
into the ground, Ryan. You barely make it to your classes and you’ve got two
faculty therapists on you cause of the narcolepsy. William calls about you
every day because you forget your fucking phone here, Ryan, what would you do
if there was an emergency and you had no phone?”
“I’d be fine,” Ryan huffed, growing annoyed again. “And I’ve always been
fucking skinny, who’s to say that my ribcage is showing that badly?”
“You’re fucking skeletal, Ryan!” Pete cried out, desperate. “You eat less than
once a day! What’s the point of destroying yourself if you’re not gonna be
round to save the person you’re basically killing yourself for?”
“I need to save him, Pete,” he whimpered. “You know that.”
Pete cursed and looked away. “I get it,” he said after a moment. But after
Ryan’s skeptical look, he corrected himself. “Okay, not really. I honestly have
no idea what this feels like. My soulmate was practically down the street and
the not trapped in some abusive place with all the traits of a PTSD victim. But
I love you, Ryan. I need you to be okay. You’re my best friend. And I can’t
watch you do this to yourself.”
“Then find a new roommate,” Ryan said tersely, too tired to immediately
understand the cruelty in his words. But he did after a moment. “I’m sorry,” he
said, watching Pete and hating the way his face fell. “I’m wrong. You’re right.
I didn’t mean it, Pete, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Pete murmured. “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine the weight on your
shoulders.”
“It’s not enough to excuse me being a dick to you…”
Pete managed a smile and shrugged. “I signed an agreement to putting up with
your dick attitude when I first became friends with you.”
Ryan smiled wryly. “Is it still worth it?” he asked in a small voice.
“Absolutely,” Pete replied sincerely. “You’re worth more than all of that
shit.”
Ryan smiled wider and leaned forward, resting his head on Pete’s shoulder. “I’m
tired,” he finally admitted in a tiny voice.
“You’re staying in my bed tonight,” Pete said. “I’ll keep the nightmares away
with my awesome thighs and my big hands and shit.”
“Your thighs?” Ryan asked.
“It’s a joke between me and Pat,” Pete said with grin. “My legs sometimes just
wrap around him when we’re, uh… s-sleeping, when we’re sleeping. He thinks my
thighs are awesome. I think his are better, but yeah, it because this joke
between us.”
Ryan just nodded briskly. He always felt the most alone when his friends were
talking of each other. “I think I’ll just sleep alone, yeah? I’m not keen on
waking up to your dick on my ass like you think I’m Patrick.” He said Patrick’s
name with a sharp tone of bitterness that he’d tried to mask, but had failed to
do so.
Pete’s face fell. “D-do you hate Patrick?” he asked after a moment.
“No,” Ryan replied without a thought, because he didn’t, he really didn’t. He
just hated being alone. “I don’t. You know that.”
Pete nodded, looking to the floor. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” he said after a moment.
“It has to be hard.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Ryan said abruptly, grabbing his shower caddy and
robe, not even bothering to undress in their room, going straight to the
bathroom to avoid this conversation he’d already had a thousand times with
Pete.
He wasn’t going to take drugs. He wasn’t going to change the way he was living.
And he definitely wasn’t looking for anyone to preach.
. . .
“I nearly got in a fight with my best friend,” Ryan told Brendon later that
night. Though it was barely night, because Ryan remembered lying awake until
three in the morning before finally slipping off as Brendon fell asleep what
was probably miles away. “He doesn’t like the way I’m handling my schedule
right now.”
“Is it my fault?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice, pressed against the wall in
his corner.
“No,” Ryan told him softly. “It’ll never be your fault.”
Brendon looked down. “M-my brother says it’s my fault,” he murmured. “He says
I-I-I’m the r-reason mom and dad are so angry. He says it’s c-cause I tried to
kill my m-mom and cause I killed my s-s-sister.”
Ryan frowned. “You haven’t killed anyone, Brendon,” he said, finding it
impossible to believe that a ten year old boy, one as thin and scared as
Brendon, could kill anyone. “Your hands aren’t even big enough to wrap all the
way around a glass. How could you have killed someone?”
“I caused the accident,” Brendon whispered.
Ryan’s blood went cold. “… You didn’t kill your sister, Brendon,” he said as
firmly as he could past the lump in his throat. “You’re a good kid. A good
person. Whatever happened was an accident and you are not to blame.”
Brendon was quiet before he unwrapped his arms around his legs. He moved
towards where Ryan was sitting, crawling on all floor, and Ryan didn’t dare
move, didn’t even breath. Brendon reached Ryan’s side and curled back up into
that ball, but with his entire side pressed against Ryan’s.
“Could y-you hold me?” the broken boy asked in a tiny voice.
Ryan didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arm around Brendon’s shoulder, pulling the
boy gently against him. Then he got his other arm around Brendon’s front,
carefully moving Brendon into his lap. Brendon uncurled his body and sat in
Ryan’s lap, pressed against him. Ryan smiled shakily in relief, rubbing the
boy’s arm gently.
“I’m here for you,” he murmured. “Every time you fall asleep, I’ll be here.”
Brendon sniffled and nodded, finally relaxing.
Ryan felt like he could fly.
. . .
“All I’m trying to say is that things are getting tough, Ry,” Frank sighed,
sitting on Ryan’s bed with Gerard beside him. “It’s the end of the year. Are
you sure you want to go through with this college shit? Are you sure you can
handle it? All that stress, plus the grades? And I mean, what job could you
have? You’re gonna fail every psych examine they give you. Why do you want
this?”
“I’ve told you,” Ryan said with a frown. “I’m doing this for Brendon. He’s
gonna be even more messed up than I am. I need him to be okay.”
“And you’re gonna do that yourself?” Frank scoffed. “He needs a professional,
Ryan!”
“Why is why I’m going to school to become a professional,” Ryan sighed, packing
more books away. “I don’t want him to be tossed into a pit of therapists who he
doesn’t know. Over the years, he’ll trust me more and more, I know he will. And
When I finally am able to take him away, I’ll be the professional he needs.”
“This is a lot to put on your shoulders,” Gerard whimpered. “Aren’t you
scared?”
Ryan paused from packing to think about how to answer Gerard’s question. “Yes,”
he finally relented. “I am scared. I’m scared he’ll be killed before I get to
him. Or, that he’ll kill himself. I’m scared he won’t actually fall in love
with me. And I’m scared that I waited so long to finally know my soulmate only
to have them torn from me.”
Gerard slid off the bed and sat beside Ryan on the floor, hugging him tight. “I
know you’ll be with him in the end,” he murmured.
Ryan relaxed into Gerard’s embrace, always having loved physical affection even
though he’d denied himself those gentle touches for so long. Probably had a lot
to do with his adverse correlation between humans and their fists.
“I don’t want you to live in a dorm,” Gerard said. “This summer, you’re moving
in with me and Frankie. Into our house. We’re renting one, it’s big and it’s
awesome.”
Ryan arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
“We’ve already talked about it,” Gerard replied. “We don’t want you being
alone. I’ll drive you to your classes and pick you up every day. This way, with
your narcolepsy, you won’t be passing out in the streets and stuff. I’ll be
there after every class.”
“Being an comic artist has its perks,” Frank supplied from above.
“I can do my work from anywhere,” Gerard joined in with a smile. “I’ll do my
work in the car and stuff. It’ll be okay.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Ryan asked in a small voice.
“Because you’re family,” the older man hummed, reaching down to run his fingers
through Ryan’s hair once. “And I know you feel more alone than every before.
Frank and I are in love, but we’re not as blinded by it as Pete or Gabe or
anyone like that. We can see how you’re hurting, Ry, and it’s hurting us too.
And, I-I’d rather have you close. In case something goes wrong a-and you
don’t…”
“And I try to kill myself,” Ryan sighed.
Gerard didn’t answer, but Ryan didn’t need him to.
“You’d really want me to stay if I lost him?”
“I wouldn’t let you feel alone,” Gerard whimpered. “I-I want you to stay Ryan.
So does Frankie, a-and Mikey. Mickey’s coming back to live here, with us, and
he’s bringing Ray. We’ll just be a huge family and it’ll be awesome, you know?”
“Do you even know Ray?”
Gerard shrugged. “Not really. But Mikey’s in love with him. Like, it’s been a
year and he’s already thinking of marriage.”
“So?” Ryan asked. “You and Frank have been together for, like, three years, but
he was talking about marriage the first month.”
Frank went scarlet and Gerard matched the red. He looked up at Frank with wide
eyes. “You, you were?”
Frank crossed his arms and shrugged, gruff with embarrassment.
Ryan smirked.
“You’re staying with us,” Gerard said again. “You’re family and I love you. We
love you.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I-I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you,” Gerard said with an easy smile.
. . .
“My friends are letting me live with them next year,” Ryan said that night.
“Gerard. And Frank. You remember them, right?”
Brendon nodded. “The.. The one with the hair. A-and the comics.” Brendon was
sitting in Ryan’s lap, curling up into the smallest ball he could make himself,
leaning against Ryan’s chest and tracing circles into his shirt on Ryan’s
collarbone.
“That’s Gerard, yeah,” Ryan hummed. “He’s an amazing artist. And do you
remember Frank?”
“Th-th-the short, angry one.”
Ryan chuckled softly and nodded. “The short, angry one, yeah.”
“N-not as short as P-Patrick?” Brendon asked, looking up at Ryan through his
hair with large, brown eyes, a dark bruise surrounding the left one.
Ryan nodded. “Patrick’s short.”
“H-he’s the smart one,” Brendon mumbled. “The, the music one. Who c-can sing
and play g-guitar, right?”
Ryan hummed and nodded, gently running his fingers through Brendon’s hair. This
was the second time he’d tried to touch Brendon directly like this, and Brendon
didn’t flinch away from Ryan’s hand, this time. Ryan’s heart soared and he kept
brushing through Brendon’s hair. “He and Pete started a band,” he told Brendon.
“They’ve actually gotten quite a few offers from local places. Pete’s leaving
school to focus on that.”
“A-are they good?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice.
“Very good,” he replied.
“I-I wanna hear them,” Brendon said. Ryan was thrown for a loop. This was the
first time Brendon had expressed a desire to him. That made Ryan was to be able
to deliver, to show Brendon Pete and Patrick’s music, more than anything.
“You will,” he said firmly. “One day. Someday. Soon.”
“A-are you going to sing for me?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice, still curled
against Ryan’s chest, still drawing patterns into Ryan’s body. “I-I’m not
allowed to listen to music. O-or anything. Sometimes, m-m-my d-dad will put me
in this closet, i-it doesn’t have any light. I-I don’t know how long I’m in
there, b-but it’s always different when I-I get out. A-and sometimes, I hear s-
singing. It’s m-my mother. She’s singing to m-my little sister.”
“Do you want me to sing for you?” Ryan asked.
Brendon nodded.
“Okay,” Ryan hummed. “I’ll learn something of theirs and sing it to you.”
“I-it doesn’t have to be theirs,” Brendon mumbled.
Ryan paused. “Do you want me to sing for you, Brendon? Anything?”
Brendon was quiet for a long time. “… Please?”
Ryan held onto Brendon just a bit tighter. “What do you want me to sing?”
“A-anything,” Brendon murmured into Ryan’s shirt. “P-please…”
“Absolutely, Brendon,” Ryan said, running his fingers through Brendon’s hair
again. He opened his mouth while trying to think of something to sing, when
suddenly Brendon whimpered.
“Goodbye,” the boy choked out, before disappearing from Ryan’s arms.
. . .
Ryan woke up, eyes full of frustrated tears, and tried to convince himself not
to punch the wall.
. . .
“I need to learn one of the things you and Pat wrote,” Ryan said to Pete that
morning, stopping Pete from leaving to take a shower. They moved out tomorrow
and their room was barren, full of boxes. The walls looked too white now that
all the posters and photos and drawings were down and Ryan felt less at home
with every passing minute.
“One of our what?” Pete asked with a small frown. He was naked from the head
down, only a small towel around his waist keeping Ryan from seeing Pete’s junk,
even though he was more than familiar with what Pete looked like naked. “Our
songs?”
“Yes,” Ryan said. “Brendon wants to hear them. One of them. He actually wants
to hear you guys, but you can’t get in my head with him, so I’m just gonna do
my best with my voice, okay? And don’t you dare compare it to Patrick’s because
I know he’s got the most amazing pipes while I sound nasally and whiny,
unquote.”
“Who said that about you?” Pete asked with a deeper frown.
“You did,” Ryan said offhandedly. “Teach me a song.”
“I wouldn’t say that about you.”
“You say a lot of things you don’t think you would when you're drunk, Pete, now
please, teach me a fucking song before I pass out again.”
Pete faltered, but nodded, dropping his shower caddy and going to his bed. The
hammock underneath the mattress he’d slept in the whole year had been packed
three days ago and Ryan knew his back had to hurt. Pete pulled out the leather
book from between the mattress and his pillow that Ryan also knew was his lyric
book. Pete had showed Ryan a couple songs in the past, but only Patrick was
good enough to know that part of him, according to Pete.
“So, uh, we have one,” Pete mumbled. “A couple, but… Y-you’re not—”
“Not Patrick, I get it,” Ryan said quickly. “Teach me whatever the fuck you
think I’m worthy of knowing and go take your shower.”
“Worthy?” Pete repeated. “What the fuck are you talking about, Ryan? You’re my
best friend.”
Ryan did his best not to scowl. “Teach me. Please.”
Pete sighed and nodded, sitting on the floor. Ryan sat in front of him,
watching Pete flip through the pages until he found whatever it was and then
put it on the floor between their knees. “Okay, so, Patrick is a lot better at
singing this stuff than I am.”
“So you’ve said,” Ryan murmured, reading the words from upside down.
Pete smiled wryly. “I’ll write them down on a piece of paper for you to read
later.”
Ryan just shrugged, still reading.
“Okay,” Pete sighed. “So, it goes like this…”
. . .
“Pete taught me a song,” Ryan said immediately after finding himself in the
dark room again. He was pretty sure he’d actually passed out in the shower,
having tagged after Pete once Pete had taught him the tune to Ryan’s
satisfaction. “It’s not much and it’s definitely not finished, but it’s what he
was willing to share.”
Brendon whimpered, looking up from his arms in his favorite corner. Ryan met
his eyes and smiled sadly, walking to where Brendon was and sitting beside him.
Brendon immediately crawled into Ryan’s lap, sitting on Ryan’s legs and facing
him.
“I’m tired,” the boy mumbled.
Ryan paused, then nodded. “Why don’t you just stay there?” he offered gently.
“I’ll sing, but I’ll be quiet. I wonder if you can fall asleep in your dreams…”
“Are you real?”
Ryan’s heart shattered a bit. “Of course I am,” he murmured. “I’m real,
Brendon. My name is Ryan Ross and I’m studying at the University of Chicago.
I’m turning ninteen in August and I’m living with my friends Gerard Way and
Frank Iero. My favorite color is red and I play the guitar and the banjo.”
“Banjo?” Brendon repeated. “W-what’s that?”
“It’s…” Ryan frowned. “It’s, like, a plucky guitar. And it sounds cool, but
weird. And it’s kinda, like, hick, or, or bluegrass. It’s, uh, it’s difficult
to describe. But it’s fun and I like it and I’d love to play for you one day.”
“W-what if you’re not real?” Brendon whimpered. “M-my mom said the th-things in
my room aren’t r-real, but d-d-dad’s real a-and he’s the monster, so…”
“I’m real,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m not in your head. I mean, I am, right now,
but I am a real person. I have real hands and real eyes and a real voice and
everything. I have real dreams and want and I really want to know you, Brendon.
I want to mean something to you, be known by you, I, I want to be something
real to you.”
Brendon just shrugged, looking every bit like a kid who was scared to learn
Santa wasn’t real, like magic wasn’t real. Like he was learning he was mortal
and broken and life wasn’t going to get any easier.
Ryan wished he could lie and tell Brendon it was going to get easier.
“If you’re real,” Brendon whimpered. “You’ll always be here, right? You won’t
run away?”
“Never,” Ryan promised. “I will never leave you.”
Brendon whimpered and nodded and hid his face in Ryan’s chest as always. “Sing
to me?”
***** Up the Wolves and Down the Hanging Door *****
Chapter Summary
     With changes looming on the horizon, Ryan turns from the burning
     shame in being left behind for something better in exchange for a new
     family that isn't new at all.
     Also, Redbull isn't the only thing that can give you wings.
Chapter Notes
     seriously, wings
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“There’s the second bedroom,” Gerard said, showing Ryan around the house with
more than a little excitement. “And, and you have a bathroom that is shared
with the third bedroom. It’s as big as the master bathroom cause it’s shared,
so it’s really nice! The, the shower has a detachable head and it’s super
cool.”
“That does sound cool,” Ryan hummed. He could tell Gerard was flustered with
trying to see this home to Ryan. He wasn't going to tell Gerard it was needless
because he knew Gerard would only stress even more.
“I’ve made the bed and everything,” Gerard said, “I got you tie-dye sheets, I
hope you don’t think that’s too stupid. And they’re really nice and stuff and
warm. I think you’ll love them. And, and there’s a desk and a bookshelf and
stuff and I think you’re really gonna like it. Oh, and, like, the kitchen is
big and shit and apparently Ray loves to cook, so we basically plan on me,
Frankie, and Mikey, and, and maybe you? Uh, just, like, we stock the kitchen
and he cooks. If you’re okay with that.”
Ryan smiled gently and nudged Gerard’s shoulder with his own. “It’s perfect,”
he told Gerard in a soft voice. “I’m gonna put in my share of the rent and food
and utilities and whatever else you need. I’m gonna love it here, Gee.”
Gerard’s smile was so achingly vulnerable that Ryan’s heart clenched and he
moved in to wrap his arms around Gerard in a tight hug. Gerard must’ve been
feeling more than he showed, because when Gerard put his arms around Ryan’s
waist and clung to him, he hid his face in Ryan’s neck. Ryan could feel him
trembling with some unnamed emotion and refused to pull away until Gerard did.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard choked. “I-I didn’t…”
“It’s okay,” Ryan soothed, rubbing his back. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“Don’t leave,” Gerard pleaded in a tiny voice. “E-even if Brendon is gone.
Please don’t leave me.”
Ryan hesitated. The thought of living alone, without the person he was meant to
spend forever with, made his stomach churn and his breathe come short. It
terrified him. Facing this horrible world utterly alone, without anyone at his
side. The dreams were the world’s way of saying that no one was ever meant to
go it alone. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep a promise like that to
Gerard.
But then he heard Gerard’s breath hitch and he knew Gerard was crying.
“I’ll stay,” he murmured. “For you.”
“Thank you,” the other man gasped, holding onto him even tighter. “You, you
won’t be alone. Not really. You’ll stay with me and Frankie a-and we’ll be best
friends and stuff and everything will be okay. You won’t be alone, I-
I promise.”
“Okay,” Ryan sighed, still rubbing Gerard’s back. “If you really, truly want me
to stay beyond him, I will.”
“Thank you so much.” Gerard reached up and tangled a hand in Ryan’s hair. “I-
I love you, Ryan. The world doesn’t seem as colorful when you’re not around,
you know? You add your own spectrum. I-I don’t like the world without your
spectrum, c-cause it looks so good against Frankie’s and you guys make this
amazing gamut when there’s wind.”
Ryan had realized, long ago, that sometimes he needed to be really high to
understand Gerard.
“I love you, Ryan,” he whimpered. “I really do.”
“I love you too,” he hummed. “And I’m happy that you asked me to stay with you
guys.” Ryan bit his lip, then went the extra mile. “You guys are the family
I’ve always wanted. And I’m really fucking happy to hear you say you want me to
stay. It’ll be hard, yeah, but I’ll try. For you.”
Gerard smiled and it was achingly vulnerable again. “You’re my best friend,
Ryan,” he mumbled. “I want you by my side forever.”
“That’s creepily romantic,” Ryan teased. “Sure you don’t want me to sleep in
your bed tonight? And do a little more than sleep?”
Gerard blushed. “I-I don’t—”
“I’m teasing, Gee,” Ryan chuckled. “When do Mikey and Ray get here?”
“Two days,” he said. “Ray’s transferring and everything. Mikey’s super excited
and I’m really happy for him and stuff. It’s gonna be really great and I
actually get to meet Ray, too. And I hear that Mikey thinks he and Ray are the
cutest couple, so who knows. Maybe me and Frankie will have some competition.”
“Is it really a competition?” Ryan asked with a raised brow.
Gerard shrugged. “Brothers and all that, I guess.”
Ryan nodded. “Spence and I were super competitive.” He sighed and shook his
head. “I miss him. Did you know he proposed to Linda?”
“Really?” Gerard asked, grinning. “Dude, that’s awesome! When’s the wedding?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m uh. I’m not invited. He’s apparently not wanting me to pay
for the ticket and stuff and says he can’t afford to pay for it on his own.
Plus, like, he doesn’t want to pull me from my studies and Brendon and stuff.”
“That sounds like bullshit,” Gerard said flatly. “When did Spencer become a
dick?”
“That’s not what it is,” he sighed. “Spencer’s really stressed and stuff. And
Linda’s brother wants to be the best man and won’t let it go. So I don’t blame
him for not getting me there. Linda’s brother’s kinda a dick and stuff, got
arrested and shit. It’s messy, you know? He has to stay in the family’s good
graces and stuff.”
“Linda and Spencer are soulmates,” Gerard said with a frown. "Fuck family.
They’re the family they need. And you’re Spencer’s family, what about your
needs? You’re just as much his brother as that asshole is Linda’s brother.”
“It doesn’t bother me, Gerard,” Ryan said. “I’ll get to see pictures and shit.
And it’s probably for the best. What would he do if I suddenly just fell asleep
up there? Just hit the floor in the middle of his vows to Linda?”
Gerard shrugged, looking away. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “You’ve known each
other your whole lives. You should be there.”
“I’m fine with it,” Ryan lied. “I really am.”
Gerard sighed and nodded, looking away. “Let’s get you unpacked.”
. . .
“It was my birthday,” Brendon mumbled.
“Yeah?” Ryan asked, rubbing the boy’s side gently as Brendon was settled in his
lap. “When was it? You should’ve told me. I would’ve sang to you, maybe figure
out how to celebrate.”
“April,” the boy mumbled. “I-I’m eleven now.”
Ryan was silent. “My birthday’s in August,” he said. “I’ll be nineteen.”
“You’re old,” Brendon said. Then, he laughed. It was more like a giggle, this
little lift in the boy’s voice that sounded light hearted and warm. Ryan’s
heart skipped a beat, then swelled to what had to be twice its size.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied with an audible smile. “I’m pretty old, huh?”
“The oldest,” Brendon giggled. “I wanna be as old as you.”
“You will,” Ryan said, reaching up to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair.
“You’ll be as old as me, and older. You’re gonna be so old, you’re hair will
turn white and you’ll be speeding around in one of those chairs. You’re gonna
be a grandpa, I’ll bet.”
Brendon didn’t answer.
“Brendon?”
“My mom says I’m not gonna be alive that long,” Brendon mumbled. “She says she
hopes I die soon.”
Long ago, when Ryan first started taking psych classes, he had quickly realized
that any acts of anger or rage or intentions to hurt was a definite no around
Brendon. Brendon was a young and impressionable and for Ryan to show some sort
of malice would make Brendon immediately associate Ryan with the acts of
violence he received from his parents and anyone else that abused him.
That being said, Ryan was very, very careful with how he talked to Brendon. He
kept his voice even, never raised it, never even let a tinge of anger slip into
his tone. He kept his voice as calm and quiet and even as careful as he could,
not wanting to let a thing away, not wanting to let a thought out of place
become exposed to Brendon.
He was terrified of scaring and scarring Brendon with his anger.
That being said, Ryan tensed and had to physically stop himself from lashing
out at Brendon’s mother, even though it would only be verbally. He breathed
quickly and shallowly through his nose, turning his head to the ceiling.
“Ryan?” Brendon whimpered, sounding scared. The fear was the shove Ryan needed
to push it all away.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, only barely keeping a lid on his emotions. “Your
mother. She isn’t not a nice lady, and she is terribly wrong. I don’t know
what’s wrong with her, but I don’t want you to die ever, okay? I want you to
live forever with me. We’ll go to all the places you want to go, yeah? The
places you’ve never been before. Everywhere you could ever dream of.”
“I don’t know of anywhere,” Brendon mumbled.
“Have you ever seen the ocean?” Ryan asked. “The water on all sides. It’s huge,
Brendon. Bigger than any city. Bigger than anything you’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t like the water,” the boy said feebly. “I’ve drowned too many times.”
Every part of Ryan’s body went cold at the confession.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to take you away
from here.” It was the first time Ryan had ever talked of saving Brendon, of
bringing him away from this hell. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up so soon
because he was terrified it would be a false promise. But he couldn’t stop
himself from saying it because he felt completely useless if he didn’t. “I’m
gonna take you away from here and keep you safe, safe from everything.”
“Really?” Brendon asked, voice small and trembling with what had to be fear,
Ryan didn’t know what else it could be. “You, you wanna take me away? From
where?”
“From everything,” Ryan gasped. “From this place, with these horrible people.
From the nightmares and the tears and the pain. I’m going to take you from all
of this, Brendon. I’m going to take you away and keep you safe, forever.”
“Promise?”
Ryan choked on his own air, barely able to nod. He had made a promise, now, not
just to himself, but to Brendon as well. There was no way he could go back on
it.
. . .
The next night, Ryan opened his eyes to the dark room with wings.
White wings, spread out and apart, stretching to the ceiling. Ryan could feel
them as a extra appendages, like he had four arms. The air brushed the white
feathers and Ryan shivered, suddenly away that he had god damn, mother fucking
wings and they were sensitive as fuck.
“I-I have a christmas card,” Brendon said for his corner, looking up at Ryan
with adoring eyes. “From my grandmother, before she died. I-it’s of a lady with
white wings. It says she’ll protect me. You, you’ll protect me too, right?
Cause you said so.”
“An angel,” Ryan breathed, still unable to process what Brendon saw him as and
what it meant. “That’s called an angel, Brendon.”
Brendon nodded. “So you’re an angel?”
Far from it.
Ryan shook his head. “I’m just a man,” he choked out, finally walked towards
Brendon. Everything felt off-centered, like the world was straightened off its
axis. He stumbled and nearly fell, but righted himself against the wall. Ryan
went down on his knees and opened his arms for Brendon to come to him. Brendon
left the corner and crawled into Ryan’s arms. As Ryan’s arms wrapped around
Brendon’s body, the wings wrapped around them both, cocooning them in white.
“It’s so pretty,” Brendon mumbled, because he’d probably only ever been
surrounded by darkness. Ryan just nodded to agree.
He was still trying to understand how he’d somehow been mistaken for an angel.
. . .
“Brendon gave me wings,” Ryan said that morning over scrambled eggs and coffee.
Gerard stopped what he was doing like he’d been shot, movement ending with a
violent jerk. The man slowly turned to look at Ryan, his expression unreadable.
“Wings, Gee,” Ryan sighed. “Big, white ones. They work like arms.”
“Can you fly?” Gerard asked.
Ryan choked on a laugh, and his eggs. “I haven’t tried,” he said after he’d
recovered. “There’s no room. We’re stuck in a cell or a basement or something.
It still smells like blood, every day. I’m scared Brendon actually lives in a
room like that. He could get sick.”
“Getting sick is the least of his worries,” Frank said from beside Ryan at the
island.
“Except it’s one of the worst things that could happen to him.” Ryan met
Frank’s eyes when the other boy looked to him with a question expression. “He’s
probably been in shit conditions his whole life, Frankie. His immune system has
to be next to nothing. That, and I really doubt his parents would give him
medicine and soup and nurture him back to health. A cold could kill Brendon. I
pray to whatever’s up there that he isn't actually kept in such a cold place.
He’ll die from pneumonia or something.”
“You’re so optimistic,” Frank sighed.
Ryan frowned at him.

Frank winced and ducked his head, eating his toast with eggs and honey. “My
bad. He’s definitely got the opposite of an optimistic life.”
“Yeah,” Ryan responded dryly. “He really does.”
Gerard looked to his phone when it chirped and smiled. “Everyone ready to go
pick them up?”
Ryan nodded and Frank grinned, jumping off the stool and going to Gerard’s side
to kiss him. Ryan was not as bothered by it as he used to be. He knew, out of
all his friends, that Gerard had been through the worst shit and wrestled with
the darkest demons. He was happy that Gerard had someone as good as Frank to
hold on to.
Frank pulled Gerard out the door and Ryan followed. It was six in the morning
and the only reason Ryan wasn’t upset about being woken this early was because
Brendon had been woken by something even earlier. Ryan had been up since three
in the morning. Without a narcoleptic session yet, he saw the day was as good
as it was gonna get.
Gerard jumped behind the wheel of his 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans American.
Ryan only called it by its name because Gerard insisted he did, and Ryan was
trying to drive it home to himself that he was going to be squished against one
of the sides when they picked up Ray and Mikey. Gerard was excited, though.
Ryan couldn’t begrudge him. Gerard and Mikey were close enough to be mistaken
for romantic. He knew the Way brothers missed each other like they’d miss their
hands or something.
Gerard was driving well over the speed limit and Frank was enjoying it in the
only way he enjoyed things. Screaming and singing like an idiot and trying to
touch Gerard as much as he possibly could without accidentally making him
crash.
Ryan sat in the back and watched with a fond smile. After everything he’d been
through and everything he and his friends had seen, it kinda made him overly
happy to see that Frank could still serenade Gerard with Queen and actually
have it sound remotely romantic, and even sensual. Only Frank could make “We
Are the Champions” sexy.
Gerard swerved just a smidgen when Frank actually grabbed his crotch, but it
was enough to make Frank feel victorious. The smaller man dropped back into the
passenger seat, giggling in that way that Ryan found kinda creepy.
“When I grow up,” Frank said, loud enough to be heard over the wind. Ryan
wasn’t sure why Gerard had a car with most of its top off in fucking Chicago.
“I wanna be an altruist!”
“Nice word,” Ryan called out. “Where’d you learn it?”
“It’s my word of the day!” Frank cackled. “Consider my daily deed done! I have
nothing to hold back my amazing poetry! My amazing ebb and flow of rhyme and
style!”
“Please stop,” Ryan groaned. “Just stop!”
“I am the rap god!” Frank screamed to a passing car. The woman in the front
looked alarmed while her daughter in the back, strapped in, was grinning and
waving to Frank. It looked like she was laughing. Frank waved back as Gerard
sped past the small family.
“No, but seriously, Frank,” Ryan called out, reaching up to pull Frank back
into the seat in a proper and safe position, just in case. “You really need to
just stop with these word of the day things! Just read a fucking book or
something, it’ll help a lot more than you think.”
Frank just flipped Ryan off as Gerard pulled off the interstate to the exit for
the airport. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that Ryan could see
his knuckles were completely white.
“Hey, Gee,” Frank said, reaching over to take one of Gerard’s hands to hold it.
“What’s got you so messed up?”
“What if Ray doesn’t like me and takes Mikey away?”
Ryan’s brow shot up. He’d never thought of what he’d do if none of his friends
like Brendon, or vice versa. Brendon was his soulmate. Gerard and Frank and
Spence and all of them were his family. He didn’t know what he’d do.
“Ray’s Mikey’s soulmate,” Frank sighed. “And you and Mikey have a lot in
common, you know. You two are basically twins, except both of you are hot in
completely different ways. And there’s no endgame that has you and Mikey
separating. You’ll be neighbors at the very most until the day you die. So
think of it as Ray being the soulmate of your other person, yeah? He wouldn’t
be Mikey’s soulmate if he wasn’t compatible with you.”
Ryan didn’t have that kind of reassurance with Brendon.
“Are you sure, Frankie?” Gerard asked in that tiny, vulnerable voice that made
it hard for Ryan to breath.
Frank nodded. “I’m sure, Gee.”
Ryan wasn’t sure at all.
“This is the gate,” Gerard said, looking excited now that his initial cause for
anxiety was gone. “Keep an eye out for the them. By the way, Mikey got surgery
and doesn’t wear glasses anymore.”
Frank pouted. “But he looked so fucking hot in them!”
“There he is,” Ryan pointed out, gesturing to a man with blond hair. He was
pretty far down the arrivals pick up center, but Ryan knew it was him because
he had the messenger bag Ryan had gotten him years ago slung over his shoulder.
The one with the Anthrax patches. It made Ryan’s heart flip when he realized
Mikey had taken it with him.
“Oh my god!” Frank exclaimed as they got closer. “You never told me Mikey’s
dating the most adorable giant on the western coast!”
Ryan looked to Mikey to see what he was talking about, then grinned. There was
a man standing right beside Mikey, over six feet tall and anxious. He was
tanner, as to be expect, with large hands and large thighs and large features.
He had a huge, curly fro that Ryan was already in love with and jesus, this guy
was big.
“Always knew Mikey was a size queen,” Ryan said with a smirk.
“That’s so hot,” Frank moaned. “Look at Mikey! Holy shit! Gee, your brother is
sex! Like, literally. Oh my god, I thought I would miss his glasses, but this
is a huge fucking improvement on something that never even needed to be
improved!”
Ryan turned his attention to Mikey to find that Frank had a point. While Mikey
and hidden behind those glasses for so long, their absence created this sense
of confidence to Mikey. And the way his hair was bleached blond with brown at
the roots, with the addition of him wearing clothes that fucking fit, he
definitely looked about five years older and way more attractive, even though
the Ways were naturally attractive to begin with.
“Pull over, pull over,” Frank babbled, grinning so wide that it probably had to
hurt. “Mikey!”
Mikey was much closer and he smirked when he saw Frank, picking up his other
bag and taking the big man’s hand to pull him to the car. So that was Ray,
definitely. Gerard pulled to the side and Mikey went to the back, tossing his
shit, then Ray’s, inside. Then Mikey slid into the back through the opened top
and pushed Ryan against the far side of the car, arms wrapped around him and
kissing his cheek sloppily.
Ryan sputtered and swatted at Mikey, giggling a bit, honestly loving the
attention. Back before Mikey and Ryan’s dreams, they’d both confessed how much
they wanted to be loved like this. Just hugs and touches and innocent things
like that. Ryan had been deprived of physical affection without Mikey. This was
an unprecedented relief.
“Missed ya, Ry,” Mikey said with a smirk. “How’s the boy in your head?”
“Missed you too, Mikey,” Ryan said, opting not to answer his question. He
scooted over even more when Mikey pulled Ray into the car after pulling away
from Ryan. Then Mikey leaned into the front, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s
neck and placing another sloppy kiss to Gerard’s cheek, then another, then
another.
“This is Gee,” Mikey said to Ray. “My big brother.”
Ray smiled shakily and waved. Gerard waved back, just as shy. It was actually
kinda cute.
"Then there's Ryan and Frank," Mikey continued. "Frank is short and you need to
tell him that every day so he gets pissed because he's closer to Hell, I think
is the consensus. And Ryan's grumpy, too, so it's great, though he's got enough
frown lines to be a Van Gogh painting."
“Gee’s gonna take us all home,” Frank said, ignoring the jab. “And we’re gonna
have an awesome dinner of pizza and shitty movies and beer. Sound good?”
“Sounds amazing,” Mikey agreed with a grin. “Can’t wait to see the new place,
you guys. I’m impressed you guys were able to unattached your mouths long
enough to get a house.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Frank laughed sarcastically. “We’re not that horny.”
“Mikey's right,” Ryan said. “Their sex is so good, Mikey. Sometimes they forget
to eat. I think Gerard gets hornier when he’s pregnant.”
Mikey snickered and nudged Ryan playfully. “I really did miss you, Ryan.”
Ryan smiled softly and just shrugged. “Glad you’re back.”
“For good,” Mikey said. “Really. Settling in Chicago and everything, at least
until school’s over.”

“Fucking wicked!” Frank exclaimed. “It’s gonna be all of us! One big, happy
family! And we’re gonna get drunk every night and fuck every night and paint
the town red and black and they’re write songs of us, Mikey Way! They’ll write
songs of our actions! Ballads and symphonies!”
“I’m gonna bribe the officials!” Ryan sang out, feeling oddly energetic. “I’m
gonna kill all the judges! It’s going to take you people years to recover from
all the damage!”
“Our mother has been absent!” Mikey sang along, wrapping an arm around Ryan’s
shoulder. “Ever since we founded Rome! But there’s going to be a party when the
wolf comes home!”
Frank started cackling, pulling himself up by the windshield to face the wind,
standing in the car. He thrusted his fist in the air, letting out a call of,
“for Narnia!” Gerard was laughing and holding onto the back of Frank’s shirt to
keep him safe while Mikey got Ray to sing with him. Ryan sat back and watched
with a fond smile, feeling more at home than ever before.
. . .
“I really did miss you,” Mikey said for what was possibly the fifth time that
night. He was curled on Ryan’s stomach. Everyone was asleep, all of them lying
together on the floor on a makeshift bed of pillows and blankets and there were
beers and paper plates littered around. Frank had half a slice of pizza on his
cheek because he’d fallen asleep first during Star Wars, episode VII, and
Gerard had wanted to see if having pizza on his face would wake him up. It
didn’t and now Gerard was asleep beside him. Ray was passed out at Ryan’s feet
and Mikey was the only one awake with Ryan.
“You keep saying that,” Ryan murmured, keeping his voice down.
“Because I want you to know it’s true.” Mikey nestled against Ryan, reaching
out and drawing pictures in Ryan’s chest, like he used to whenever Ryan would
leave his house to come to Mikey’s so they wouldn’t have to sleep alone. “I
want you to know that when I left, I wasn’t leaving you.”
Ryan swallowed hard, hating how well Mikey knew him without even knowing it.
Spencer was the only person to have ever been able to read him like that,
though it stopped a couple years ago. Mikey had picked it up. Ryan wondered if
it was one of those contagious things that left you for someone else. He tried
not to think about how that made him feel like someone’s recycling, being
passed around before finally being tossed into the bin by a lazier person.
“I wasn’t leaving you, Ryan,” Mikey insisted softly. “I wasn’t. I was going to
Ray. They’re two completely different things, you know that, right?”
Ryan nodded. “You were leaving for Ray.”
“Not leaving,” Mikey corrected. “Going. Just going, Ryan. With every intention
of coming back.”
“For your brother.”
“For you.”
Ryan sighed. “Really?” he asked after a moment.
“Truly,” Mikey hummed.
“For me?”
“For you.”
Ryan nodded, adjusting himself so he was lying beside Mikey after Mikey had
lied down on the “bed.” Mikey reached out and wrapped an arm around Ryan’s
shoulder, pulling him in close and safe against his chest, like he always would
if Ryan had a nightmare. Ryan would do the same if Mikey had a nightmare, too.
“It has to have been hard,” Mikey said with a sad tone. “Loving someone who’s
years away.”
“Literally,” Ryan mumbled.
“Frank told me,” he sighed. “Said he was ten.”
“Eleven. His birthday is in April.”
“He seems sweet,” Mikey said. “Good kid?”
“Best kid,” Ryan sighed. “I love him, Mikey. I have to watch him grow up in
that awful place. How am I going to separate him from the ten year old kid
crying in the corner? How the hell will I get it up?”
“Is that really what you’re worried about?” he asked skeptically.
Ryan sighed and shook his head. “Scared he’ll think I’m a monster once he’s old
enough to know what the dreams mean.”
“He won’t think that,” Mikey said. “Why would he? It’s not like you intended
this to happen.”
“But he’s predisposed to not trust adults anymore,” Ryan pointed out. “He’ll be
more likely to assume I’m out to get him or use him or something for my own
betterment because that’s how he’s been raised to think.”
Mikey sighed. “Well, yesteryear, you and I seemed pretty hopeless. Now we’ve
got futures, yeah? Maybe Brendon will see you for you.”
“You sound tired,” Ryan said.
“How can you tell?”
“You’re not making sense anymore.”
Mikey giggled and nuzzled into a pillow. “Love you, grumpy-Ry.”
“Love you too, Mikey Gay,” Ryan snorted.
Mikey hummed and drifted off to sleep. Ryan didn’t fall asleep until Brendon
did.
. . .
Ryan wasn’t used to the wings yet. He felt heavy and clumsy and found it hard
to walk straight and quickly. The wings would catch on the air like sails and
he definitely couldn’t go far like this. Still, the wings meant the world to
him. It had taken him all of a day to grow accustom to the idea that he had
become something akin to a hero in Brendon’s eyes. An angel was a bit more
complex for a child to understand, hence the fact that Brendon couldn’t even
name it. And Ryan appreciated the white wings more than he would have
appreciated a cape. To Ryan, superheroes were cheap. An angel meant more to
him, at least metaphysically.
Still, as the wings travelled through the dirt and made Ryan shudder, he wished
he could find a way to make Brendon’s life better so that just having a decent
person in his life didn’t translate to the existence of angels.
“Hi,” Brendon greeted in a tiny voice. He wasn’t in the corner. Ryan didn’t
know what to make of that. Brendon had never been the one to greet him, had
never been out of his corner. Now, Brendon was sitting on the floor in front of
where Ryan opened his eyes every night. “I-I was waiting for you.”
“Did you wait long?” Ryan asked breathlessly.
“No,” Brendon said, shaking his head. “I-I was only here for a second. You, you
came. Like always.” The boy smiled shakily. “I-I keep thinking you won’t, but
you always do.” The smile grew into something a bit more solid and Ryan’s heart
clenched. “I… I-I missed you, Ryan.”
Ryan’s heart fucking stopped. The air around him shuddering and he realized
they were his wings. His wings were shaking with Ryan’s emotions and he did not
sign up for this sort of thing. He was not ready to have the wings show what he
was feeling. He was scared of what could happen if he became angry, if the
wings became angry too. Ryan’s terrified of how he’s personifying the wings
that were supposed to be part of his own body. He was scared of himself.
Because he was scared he could hurt Brendon. Everything went back to Brendon.
Everything Ryan did and planned to do was for Brendon, for Brendon’s safety,
his happiness, for the future Ryan had promised Brendon. Ryan had fucking
promised, Brendon, and he was not going to go back on his promises. Not now,
not ever, not what he promised Brendon. Not anyone he ever made or will make a
promise to.
Ryan sat on the floor and Brendon shuffled into his arms.
“Thanks for coming again,” Brendon mumbled. “It’s cold without you.”
“Never for more than a second,” Ryan said. “Never more than a second.” The
wings wrapped around their bodies once Brendon was settled in Ryan’s lap. They
were encased in the warm white again and Brendon began to hum softly under his
breath, the song Ryan had sang for him. He knew Brendon felt safe like this. He
actually felt really safe here too.
“You’re my angel,” Brendon mumbled into the white. Ryan just nodded and held
him closer.
. . .
“I hear you haven’t met your soulmate,” Ray said in a soft voice the next
morning. It’s five in the morning and Ryan and Ray are the only two up. Ryan
had woken first, then Ray had woken with him. It was odd to be with someone who
rose so early in the morning. “Mikey didn’t tell me much. It wasn’t his place
to say and all that stuff.”
“It’s alright,” Ryan said with a mug of coffee in his hands. “I don’t mind.”
“I don’t stick my nose into what’s not my business,” Ray sighed. “Just, yeah.
There’s a lot of bad people out there. I don’t want to make the good ones think
twice about knowing me.”
“That’s a weird way to live,” he replied.
“Safeguarded,” Ray agreed. “It’s what happens when your mom dies in front of
you from a mugging gone awry.”
Ryan winced. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t know,” Ray said. “Now you do. I’m not upset.”
“Why not?”
Ray smirked. “I never said the mugger got away.”
Ryan returned the smile. “Seems pretty consolidated.”
“Life in prison,” the other man agreed. “He’ll never see the light of day
again. Not beyond bars, that is. It’s the closest thing to justice in that
city. I was lucky he even got put into a real prison, you know? They’re so full
these days.”
Ryan grimaced. “You gonna go into law enforcement or something?”
“No,” Ray denied. “My dad’s in CPS.”
“Child Protective Servies?” Ryan perked up. “Uh, is he, like, big?”
“Regional Jurisdiction Manager of all of California,” Ray replied. “He might
even get promoted to something national.”
Ryan bit his lip. “Would he, uh… maybe be able to find someone?”
“What did you have in mind?” Ray asked with a slight frown.
“My soulmate,” Ryan said. “He’s being abused. Like, like horribly. By his
parents. I’m pretty sure they’re a big family, you know? He’s got at least one
brother and one sister that I know of. And he’s got another sister who’s dead,
then his mom and dad. And just, they’re awful, you know? He’s really fucked up
because of them. He’s only eleven and they’ve torn this kid apart. He’s scared
and he’s been beaten bloody and stuff. It’s really bad, it’s why I’m going to
college. I’m studying to become a psychologist so I can help him.”
Ray nodded. “That’s a lot on your plate, don’t you think?”
Ryan shrugged. “Who better than me? I work with him in his dreams, and then I
keep working when I find him out here.”
“You’re just a kid, Ryan…”
“No, I’m not,” Ryan said firmly. “He’s just a kid. He’s eleven. He’s a child.
He’s my soulmate and he needs my help.”
Ray was quiet for a moment. “Got a name?”
“Brendon.”
“Brendon,” Ray repeated. “Okay. I’ll talk to my dad. I’ll tell him. He’ll keep
an eye out.”
Ryan nodded. “How do you like Mikey?”
Ray chuckled. “Is that a real question? I love the kid, I love him. He’s
probably the best person I’ve ever known. He just… He’s my soulmate.”
“It’s funny how that’s the only explanation we have for our relationships
anymore.”
Ray shrugged again. “I was jealous of you for a long time,” he said.
Ryan frowned. “Why?”
“Because Mikey talked about you so much,” he explained. “Like, every other
sentence. He talked about you like you were his soulmate, not me.”
Ryan winced. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” Ray said. “If anything, I was grateful. For all our talk about
money and business and possession, we really are only worth the people that
give us a reason to live. You kept him around long enough for me to get him,
right?”
Ryan shrugged. He hadn’t known Mikey that long. “Something like that.”
“I appreciate everything,” Ray said. “For Mikey and his brother.”
Ryan managed a smile at the mention of Gerard. “They’re good brothers.”
“Closest pair I’ve ever seen,” Ray said, referring to how Mikey and Gerard had
been all over each other yesterday, cuddling or wrestling or something that
kept they touching. It wasn't sexual, those two were the furthest thing from
incestuous. It was just them being the closest pair of brothers in all
existence. “They’re refreshing. Siblings only ever tear at each other’s throat.
It’s nice to see people like them get along.”
“They’re fucking adorable,” Ryan drawled, remembering to take a swallow from
his coffee. Ray smirked and did the same.
“I like you,” Ray said. “I was nervous about meeting Mikey’s family, you know?
I mean, he’s amazing. He’s kind, polite, well rounded, fucking intelligent.
He’s gorgeous and he has this amazing smile and his sense of humor is eight
shades of dark and ninety-two shades of perfect. I just, I don’t know. I’m an
only child. And I know his brother means everything to him. I know is family
means everything to him. I was scared I wouldn’t be a match for his family,
because I’d never ask him to choose between his family and me. “
“You’d leave him?” Ryan asked with a frown. “Just because you and Gerard
weren’t compatible?”
“And Frank,” Ray added. “And you. You guys are his family. That’s three to one,
you know? I wouldn’t ask him to choose between that.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want him to stay,” Ryan sighed. “I mean, fuck. Gerard would
miss him more than anything and I would feel like shit and shit. But you’re his
soulmate. That’s it. He can stay with you. He should stay with you. That’s it.”
“I wouldn’t want to take him from you guys.”
“And we wouldn’t want to take him from you.” Ryan smiled sadly. “Already lost a
friend to who he’s meant to be with. Figured I’d lose a couple more. And same
with Gerard and Frank and shit. We get that it’s a world of predestined
relationships. Who you’re born with usually isn’t who you’re gonna die with.”
“Well, I don’t like that,” Ray said rather stubbornly. Ryan chuckled. “You live
with who you want, die with you want. Being born with other people can’t be
helped, but everyone has their own path that they choose.”
“That’s pretty fairy tale,” Ryan said. “I mean, I’d love to believe that
there’s a future I call the shots for, but I can’t even fall in love freely.
Gotta be told who I’m meant to be with, gotta dream with them every night.”
“Do you not like Brendon?” Ray asked, alarmed.
“No,” he sighed. “I love Brendon. Just, there’s an illusion of freedom in the
soulmates.”
“And you think you can control falling in love with someone?”
Ryan paused. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Never thought of it that way.”
Ray smirked and pat his shoulder. “Don’t think about it too much,” he said.
“It’ll run you ragged.”
Ryan nodded and finished his coffee. “Better get back to bed,” he said with a
smirk. “Mikey will hate to wake up without either of his soulmates.”
Ray smirked, nodded, and left, leaving Ryan to wonder how he’d ever gotten so
cynical that he couldn’t see the truth right in front of him.
Chapter End Notes
     i fucking love wings
***** I'll Give You All That and More to See Him Cured *****
Chapter Summary
     Settling into a routine opens up more temptation of apathetic
     complacency and Ryan's starting to get pissed at everything.
Chapter Notes
     so uh yeah everything is getting better while still being suckish
     cause hey abuse is messy business and you start getting rather
     obsessive when you love someone you know?
     anyways, hope you enjoy it
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“I think Ray and Mikey are gonna get married,” Ryan told Brendon. It was August
when awake, the night before Ryan’s nineteenth birthday. Ryan thought he’d
blacked out around lunch, because he’s been with Brendon for hours and hours
and he wasn’t counting, but this had to be the longest time he’d ever been
under. Ryan would’ve been worried if he wasn’t so caught up in just talking to
Brendon and existing in Brendon’s head
“They’re so close, B,” Ryan continued. “They just sit together on the bed. They
kiss and they love each other and it’s kinda amazing, you know? The way they
look at each other. Like no one else exists. It’s, it’s true love. It’s
awesome.”
“I like them,” Brendon mumbled into Ryan’s chest. They were in the white again,
the white of Ryan’s wings. He understood, now, why they both liked it so much.
Being surrounded by the darkness of the room is suffocating. In here, they
could breathe.
“Mikey, and, and Ray?” Brendon asked, probably wanting to make sure he was
getting their names right. “I, I like them.”
“I like them too,” Ryan said with a grin, rubbing Brendon’s sigh carefully. “I
really like Ray. He’s good for Mikey. He’s good for Gee, too. He’s smart and
he’s really supportive and stuff. He’s a really good guy, all around. He’s a
good person.”
“I don’t know good people,” Brendon whimpered.
“Yeah, you do,” Ryan said. “You know me. Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“No,” the boy mumbled, nuzzling into Ryan. “You’re an angel.”
“So I’m one good person you know,” Ryan said. “And you basically know my
friends, right? Gerard and Frank and Mikey and Pete and Spencer. You’ve heard
enough about them to know them, you know? You know them as well as I do.”
“They’re not my friends,” Brendon mumbled.
“But I think they want to be your friend…”
Brendon smiled a bit and shrugged, biting his thumb nail. “I like your
friends,” he said in a small voice. Ryan smiled and kissed his forehead.
Brendon didn’t flinch, which was a really good sign. “Are they gonna do stuff
with you?”
Ryan’s brow creased at the vagueness of the question.
“B-birthday stuff,” Brendon added.
“Birthday stuff,” Ryan hummed. “Uh, I think so. Nothing major.” He still wasn’t
keen on leaving the house for more than a couple hours, just in case he
dropped. “I know Gerard was double checking that vanilla is my favorite type of
cake. He was also asking if I wanted a theme.” Ryan smirked fondly at the
thought. “That man is probably one of the most mature thinkers I’ve ever known,
and he’s a little kid in every other way.”
“I’ve never had cake,” Brendon said.
“You will,” Ryan said without hesitation. “When I get you, I’ll bring you home
to every kind of cake imaginable. And a ton of icing. Icing is kinda sucky,
because it’s good for the first few bites, but then it becomes too strong and
you feel sick.”
“Eating icing makes you sick?” Brendon whimpered. “I-I feel sick without eating
anything at all.”
Ryan winced at his slip up, because of course Brendon was going to have very
different views on eating, sleeping, cleaning, everything. He lived in a
different world from Ryan, a harder world. He’d probably eat just about
anything because there was no way that Brendon wasn’t malnourished. He even
felt like skin and bones in Ryan’s arms.
“Mom and dad get upset if I say I’m hungry,” Brendon mumbled. “They say that I
earn the food I eat. That I should start being better to earn more.”
“You’re a human being and you’re being raised in America by two able persons,”
Ryan said in a flat tone. “You deserve to be fed what you’re needed. You’ve
done nothing wrong. It’s unjust to be starved, and I don’t want you to think
you’ve done a thing to not deserve the food you need.”
Brendon whimpered and hid in Ryan’s chest. Ryan felt awful when he realized
Brendon had tensed up considerably, probably in the face of Ryan’s audible
anger. He tried so hard to keep those sorts of emotions hidden, but it was so
difficult when he became more and more aware of what brendon was being put
through. All the injustices and cruelty and abuse was wearing Ryan thin. He
couldn’t even imagine how Brendon felt.
“I’m sorry, “ he sighed. “Just, whenever I hear about what’s happened to you,
I—”
“No, please stop!” Brendon suddenly screamed, then disappeared.
. . .
Ryan woke up with a cry, sobbing and shaking. He looked around with wide,
scared eyes and tried not to become hysterical. Frank and Gerard and Ray and
Mikey were all surrounding his bed. There was a cake in Ray’s hands and they
all had stupid hats on and they all looked broken. They looked as broken as
Ryan felt. Ryan tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, but found that there
were too many for him to hope to stop.
. . .
“You should call the police,” Ray said softly.
“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Ryan bit out, hands shaking as he
stared at the floor of the dining room. “What the fuck would I tell them? “Hi,
I’m a pedophile and my soulmate is being abused, though I only know a first
name and no idea where he is, so good luck!” Is that what you want me to say?”
“You’re not a pedophile,” Mikey cut in, scowling.
“He’s fucking eleven!” Ryan cried out, gesturing to nothing with an open hand.
“He’s an eleven year old boy, Mikey, and I fucking hold him every fucking
night! He gave me fucking wings! I’m supposed to be in love with an eleven year
old boy who’s being abused! That’s fucking pedophilia!”
“The fact that you hate yourself kinda says you’re not,” Gerard whimpered.
“No, it’s actually quite common in people suffering from similar horrible
traits,” Ryan spat. “People who are nonconsensual voyeurs report feelings of
shame and self deprecation! Pedophiles are often filled with feelings of self
hatred too! They don’t lack morals, they just don’t abide by the morals they
should follow and feel guilty for not doing so!”
“Ryan, please stop,” Gerard choked out, looking visibly distressed. Ryan’s
anger ebbed like bloodletting and he nodded, staring down at the floor again.
“I know this is hard,” Gerard continued. “I can’t even begin to imagine how
this mist make you feel. But you’re not a bad person. And you’re not a
pedophile and you’re not about to use Brendon in any way. You’ve only ever
wanted to help him. You’ve never wanted anything from him.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He hung his head in his hands, trying to think beyond what
he knew and what he hated about himself. He almost wished he could stop the
dreams and turn himself in for what he knew he had to be. He was a monster.
“You can’t do this to yourself, Ryan,” Gerard insisted. “It’ll tear you apart.
You don’t deserve to be torn apart over anything, let alone over someone you
love.”
“I’d been so scared all of you would leave me for what I am,” Ryan mumbled.
“Turns out, I’m the one with the problem with myself.” He laughed brokenly. “Of
fucking course, right? Of course I’m my own worst enemy. That’s the only way
it’s ever been.”
“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Mikey said.
“Fucking good!” Ryan exclaimed, looking up at him with a scowl. “Jesus, don’t
you think that’s the least I deserve?”
“None of us think you’re a bad person except yourself, as you’ve said,” Ray
said calmly. “You need to look at this from a bigger perspective, Ryan. You’ve
been paired with Brendon for a reason. You can’t change it. None of us can.
Some higher power or whatever has put you with Brendon and none of us know why,
but that’s how it is and that’s how it will be. So you have to deal with this
now, okay? Before it hurts Brendon too.”
“You think I’d ever hurt him?” Ryan asked, appalled.
“Not on purpose,” Ray sighed. “You never mean to hurt anyone, Ryan. I mean, I
haven’t known you as long as others, but I know you’re a good person who would
never intentionally hurt anyone.”
“He’s right,” Frank chimed in. “You’re, like, a saint, Ryan. You couldn’t hurt
anyone if you wanted to.”
“I can say bad shit,” Ryan tried to reason.
“Everyone can say bad shit,” Mikey said. “Doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”
“Words are the cheapest things in existence,” Gerard murmured. “Anyone can say
anything and it’s either true or false. That’s it. There’s no real worth to
words.”
“Not even when I say, “I love you?”” Frank asked in a tiny voice.
Gerard faltered. “… It, it has merit. Because you’ve proven it to be true.” He
went to Frank’s side and wrapped an arm around Frank’s waist. The smaller man
hid in Gerard’s chest. Ryan’s frowned, then caught Mikey’s eye, wondering if
they’d missed something. Mikey looked just as lost. “I’m sorry, Frankie,”
Gerard whimpered. “Never meant to hurt you.”
“Is everything okay?” Mikey asked.
“Yeah,” Gerard replied too quickly. “We’re, uh. We’re gonna go back to our
room. Ryan, you’re not a pedophile and you’re the only person who can help
Brendon. Don’t forget that.” Gerard left the room, pulling Frank with him.
“Please don’t let something be wrong with them,” Mikey sighed. “I mean, fuck,
not them. They’re perfect. They’re supposed to be perfect.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ryan said, though he was happy to have something else to
think about. “I mean, Gerard seemed to handle it well enough. And Frank didn’t
seem upset or anything, right? So it’s okay. They will be, I mean. They’ll be
okay.”
“Frank didn’t look okay,” Mikey said. “He didn’t, Ryan. Jesus. Can’t you, like,
science this out or something? Deduce what’s wrong?”
“I’ve only got one year of this,” Ryan said in a flat tone. “And anyways, I’m
study psychology to become a psychologist, not a fucking detective. I can’t
listen to people complain and suddenly know all their deepest secrets. I’m not
Sherlock and Freud is full of shit.”
“Isn’t Freud one of the greatest psychological minds?” Ray asked with a frown.
“Not if you know anything,” Ryan griped. “All of his shit is bull. The only
thing he aided in was the awareness to the sexuality of younger persons and
sexual development and the sexuality of women. That’s it.”
Ray winced. “Sorry I asked.”
Ryan sighed and hung his head again. “You’re fine, Ray,” he said after a
moment. “I’m just, yeah. I’m kinda nervous too. About a lot of things.”
“You’re still not a pedophile,” Mikey grumbled.
Ryan sighed again and looked away. Mikey huffed and left.
“He’s right,” Ray said softly. “With my dad’s work, he’s seen the worst of the
worst. He knows monsters. I’ll bet, if he met you, he would say you’re not one
of the people he has to save kids from.”
Ryan just shrugged.
Ray sighed this time and reached over to rest a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “I like
you, Ryan,” he said. “So do Mikey and Frank and Gerard. I think you just need
to start liking yourself. Things will get a lot easier once you do.”
“Self deprecation is my only strong suit,” Ryan said.
“That’s not true,” Ray replied.
“You sure about that?” Ryan asked rhetorically with an empty expression.
Ray paused. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he began. “You see the
world for what it is and you’re just working to get through it. You don’t
aspire for the grander things you could so easily accomplish because you care
about Brendon.”
“What grand things?” he asked with a skeptical brow raised.
“Mikey told me about your talent for words,” Ray responded. “He told me about
the instruments you play. You could be out there, Ryan. Preforming with your
other two friends. You could be a musician like them.”
“I don’t want that anymore,” he said. “I want Brendon. Safe. With me. Not being
hurt.”
“And that’s pretty amazing of you.”
Ryan scoffed. “You know anyone would do that for their soulmate.”
Ray shrugged. “I’ve seen people do awful things to their soulmates,” he said.
“They search for them and are happy when they’ve found that person. But there’s
still violence in bad people. Domestic violence. Partner abuse. Rape and
murder. Just because we’re led to the best person for us doesn’t mean some
people are not inherently evil. And it doesn’t mean that you’re guaranteed
happiness. It doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed the perfect life with the perfect
person. You’ve still gotta get a paycheck. Still gotta eat. Drink. Sleep.
People think that since we have our soulmates lied out for us, we’re gonna live
good lives.”
“It’s bullshit,” Ryan mumbled.
“You’re right,” Ray said. “You’re looking to give Brendon a good life, right?
So you’re thinking about the future. You’re thinking about jobs. About things
you can do to supply Brendon with that good life.”
“But all I’m preparing for is getting him out and getting him the help he
needs,” Ryan sighed. “Not the actual end game. I don’t know a job I’d want. I
don’t know how I’m gonna afford a house and shit and he might even need meds?
Jesus, Ray, you think I’ve thought of everything when I can only think about
one thing, and that’s getting him out. I don’t know what I’m gonna do once he
is out.”
Ray sighed again and nodded, looking away. “I’m sorry you’re so anxious all the
time,” he said with something like sadness in his tone. “You don’t deserve to
be like this. You’ve done the best you can and you’ve done it selflessly. I’m
sorry you feel like this about yourself.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m gonna talk to Gerard and Frank once they’re back,” he
mumbled. “See if I can help them. Maybe help them work something out.”
Ray parroted the nod. “Good luck,” he said.
Ryan nodded and headed out the door to grab Starbucks, needing a boost, a jump,
a shock to get himself into motion again. Coffee was the best way to get Gerard
to open up, anyways.
. . .
“Frank wants to get married,” Gerard told Ryan later that night. Ryan was
pleasantly surprised with how easily Gerard had surrendered the information to
him. Ryan had come home (from a long walk, jesus, he was grateful for the
distance between their home and the outdoor mall) with a mocha for Gerard and
black coffee for Frank. Frank had taken his drink and fled. Gerard had asked
Ryan to stay up with him in the kitchen while Gerard sketched and inked a few
pages.
Ryan paused, mulling over Gerard’s words. “Do you want to get married?”
“Not yet,” he whimpered. “Just… I love Frankie. And I want to marry him. But
I’m not ready for it, I won’t be for a while. He wants it now.”
“Is he refusing to take a maybe?” Ryan asked.
“No, but he wants a yes. And he hurts every time I deny him that.”
“Then maybe you should say yes,” Ryan reasoned. “And have a long engagement.”
“I can’t even afford a ring, Ryan!” Gerard cried out. Then he visibly started,
looking around. Ryan knew he hadn’t meant to raise his voice. “He deserves
better,” Gerard murmured after he’d heard no one stirring about the loudness.
“I’m not going to leave him or anything, I just want to be able to afford a
fucking ring and a beautiful ceremony. Fulfill the dream he lies about not
having.”
“Then tell him that,” Ryan said. “Frank loves you too, Gee. He’s gonna listen.”
“Yeah, he’ll listen,” Gerard huffed. “But he’ll still be hurt.” He tossed the
inking pen aside, sitting back in his chair with a long sigh, frustrated.
“Just, it’s so complicated,” he said. “I want to marry him. I will marry him.
But not now. Not until it’s perfect.” He faltered. “A-and not until… Until I’m
perfect.”
Ryan’s stomach twisted and he felt fever cold. “I thought you had killed those
demons, Gee,” he said after a long moment of stilted thought.
“I can’t kill them,” Gerard mumbled. “They’re me. I’ll always have them.
They’ll always be in the back of my mind.”
“I’m checking your room for blades later,” Ryan said firmly, leaving no room
for argument.
Gerard nodded. “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”
“You made me promise to stay no matter what happens to Brendon,” Ryan said.
“You’ve gotta make the same promise, now. And it’s a dick thing to do, you
know.”
“I’m sorry,” Gerard responded. “You know how hard it gets.”
“You’re right, I do know. But that doesn’t mean I slit my wrists and hurt the
only people who have stuck by me even more,” Ryan shot back. “Seriously,
Gerard. It’s kinda a fucked up thing to do. You have Frank. He wouldn’t turn
you away. He wouldn’t judge you or yell at you or hurt you. He wants to help
you, Gee. He wants you to let him help you.”
“I’m tired of failing him,” Gerard whimpered. “I’m tired of promising him I’ll
get better, only to go back on my word. I’m tired of the disappointment in his
eyes every time he sees a new scar.”
“Really, Gerard?” Ryan asked. “How long have you been relapsing? How many
times?”
Gerard shrugged, tears beginning to brim in his eyes. His lower lip trembled
and his voice wavered. “It was supposed to be perfect,” he choked out. “After I
found my soulmate, I was supposed to be fixed, you know? Healed or something.
But I’m not. I’m still a fucking mess and nowhere near worthy of him. I wish I
was.”
“Just because you’ve found your other half doesn’t mean you’re whole,” Ryan
sighed. “If you were in pieces to begin with, you’re going to have cracks
showing when you’re next to him.”
Gerard managed a smile. “How poetic,” he barely got out, wiping at his eyes.
“Fuck, Ryan… I want to be better. How do I get better?”
“Consistency,” Ryan said. “And responsibility. You have to hold yourself
accountable. Don’t create a reward system, that works best only for children.
Just keep your goal in mind and don’t make excuses. Do it or don’t do it. Let
Frank help hold you to your word. That’s it.”
Gerard nodded. “I’m sorry for being so difficult,” he whispered, blinking away
tears.
Ryan shrugged. “Difficulties create conflict, conflict is met with passion.
You’re my family, Gee, and I love you. I’m gonna stick by you no matter what,
okay? I’m not gonna abandon you.”
“Because you know how much being abandoned hurts,” Gerard sniffled.
Ryan paused, then nodded. “I’m gonna order pizza,” he said. “We’ll stay up
together.”
Gerard nodded and sent him a grateful smile before retrieving the pen and
getting back to the art.
. . .
”I’m starting middle school,” Brendon mumbled. “I-I don’t want to. But mom and
dad are insisting because they think government people will show up.”
“How have you been schooling before this?” Ryan asked. He’d assumed that
Brendon had gone to public school. It wouldn’t make sense, really, and Ryan was
avidly denying that teachers and a staff would see someone as damaged and
blatantly abused like Brendon and not doing anything about it. He prayed the
Bystander Effect applied only to ages above twenty.
“My mom and dad have been saying I’m homeschooled,” Brendon explained. “But I
haven’t been.” He shuddered, nuzzling closer into his arms and hiding behind
his own hands. “I-I can’t even read, Ryan…”
Ryan pursed his lips. “I could figure out how to teach you,” he said.
“Teach me how to read?” Brendon repeated. “I start in two weeks. I-I’m not that
smart. I don’t think it’ll work. I’ll, I’ll probably just be put in those
courses with the people with the learning problems.” He whimpered and hid his
face in Ryan’s chest. “I’m stupid.”
“Not stupid,” Ryan denied with a firm shake of his head. The wings around them
ruffled and tightened. He was working on gaining control of the emotional
reactions. “You’ve been given a very bad hand, Brendon. You’ve got a shitty
life, not even you can deny that. I wouldn’t listen to you if you did. The
circumstances set you back, yeah, but you’re not stupid. Just unlucky.”
Brendon shook his head. “Nice way to say it.”
“Not my proudest sentence,” Ryan sighed. “Just, I’m sorry. But you’re not
dumb.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” the younger boy said. “I’m still gonna fail. And
I’m gonna be put in the stupid person classes. And it’s gonna suck.”
“It’ll be fine, Brendon,” Ryan said. “If anything, it’s a way out of the house,
and away from your family.”
. . .
“I d-don’t know where I am,” Brendon sobbed, two weeks later. His face was
matted with bruises and his left eye was swollen shut. One hand looked like it
had two fingers broken and there was an unnatural bump to his collarbone. “I-
I tried to go to school, R-Ryan, I tried to g-g-go to school like I-I’m
supposed to, b-but my dad started screaming a-a-and he grabbed me and he hit me
and k-kicked me a-and he w-wouldn’t stop and I-I don’t know where I am!”
“Brendon,” Ryan whimpered, holding the boy’s face. He’d blacked out seconds ago
and woken to Brendon crying out in pain with ragged sobs as his whole body
trembled. “Brendon, sweetie, please,” he choked out, trying to get Brendon to
still. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
“It hurts,” Brendon sobbed. “Ryan, i-it hurts, please! Help me!”
Ryan opened his mouth to say something, anything, when the room started to
shake. Huge thumps and upheavals, even in pace, like the footsteps of a giant
getting closer and closer, Ryan looked up and saw the ceiling begin to crack.
“Brendon,” he choked. “Baby, I need you to listen to me, okay? It’s gonna be
okay! I will find you! I promise everything will be oka—!”
. . .
Ryan awoke with a gasp that made his diaphragm clench and shudder.
Pete jumped away, arm out in Ryan’s direction, his eyes wide and scared.
“You were shouting his name,” Pete said. “Mikey said you suddenly dropped. They
couldn’t wake you up. You were shouting Brendon’s name.”
Ryan’s head fell back onto a pillow and he began to cry his heart out.
Pete left. He’d come to visit and see everyone, but fled once Ryan had been
“dealt with,” obviously still not wanting anything to do with what Brendon was
doing to Ryan.
. . .
Ryan didn’t dream with Brendon for three days.
. . .
“Do you think he’s dead?” Ryan asked Ray. He sat at the dining table, staring
at his hands that were folded together atop the wood. “I think he’s dead.”
“I don’t think he’s dead,” Ray said, shaking his head.
“How can you say that?” Ryan looked up at the other man with a hollow
expression. “Four days, Ray. Four. That’s unheard of.”
“Unheard of,” Ray echoed. “But not impossible. Forcing insomnia on a person is
a well known torture tactic used for centuries, it could be—”
“You’re convincing me Brendon isn’t dead by explaining this as him being
tortured,” Ryan bit out. “How the hell am I supposed to feel better because of
that?”
Ray faltered. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, shaking his head.
“Me too,” Ryan shot back. He stood. “I’m going to bed.”
“It’s lunchtime,” Ray pointed out.
“Asleep or dead!” Ryan called out as he walked away.
. . .
“Ryan?”
Ryan’s eyes snapped open.
He relaxed when he saw he was surrounded by bloodstained walls and shadows.
“Brendon,” he breathed.
Brendon scrambled to him, crawling on the floor. He barreled into Ryan and
clung to him, crying and shaking. But he was alive and breathing and he was in
Ryan’s arms and everything felt just a little bit more okay now.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Ryan breathed, holding him as tight as he felt it
was safe to. “Fuck, Brendon, I’ve missed you so fucking much. I’ve missed you.
I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon whimpered. “They, they wouldn’t let me sleep. I told them
about you and they wouldn’t let me sleep.”
“It’s okay,” he assured the boy, rubbing his side. “I’m not mad, Brendon, I
promise. Just happy to have you back.”
“I didn’t want to be awake,” Brendon cried. “I don’t like being awake.”
“I know, baby,” Ryan said, still rubbing his side. He folded his wings around
them both, and thought, for a moment, that they’d gotten bigger. “You’re safe,
now,” he promised softly. “You’re safe here with me. I have you, Brendon, I
always will.”
. . .
Classes started for Ryan, and he’d added a self defense class on top of his
other courses. Mikey had warned Ryan against putting too much on his plate, but
Ryan had ignored him. He’d realized, kinda suddenly, that Brendon’s parents
were monsters. Monsters that knew how to tear someone apart and still keep them
alive.
Through everything, Ryan knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would have
to fight someone eventually. He’d have to fight someone for Brendon. He didn’t
know who it would be, and he honestly didn’t care. He was ready to tear their
fucking throat out if he had to. He just needed to learn how.
Ray kept Ryan up to date on everything Ray’s father found. All the cases and
reports, the abusers that were arrested and the people set free. He told Ryan
about all the things that had been fixed and it made Ryan more and more pissed
about how Brendon was in a family of god damn monsters and no one had even
bothered to call the cops. He knew Brendon screamed. He knew Brendon cried. And
he knew someone outside had to have heard Brendon begging for help and done
nothing.
That made him see red and murder seem tempting.
All through his third semester, Ryan saw red, violent and blazingly savage,
burning behind his eyelids, his brain. It was there when he woke, when he
walked, when he talked and breathed and thought, but it wasn’t there when he
was with Brendon. That told Ryan a lot more about himself than he would’ve
liked to know.
It also told him that he could not drink. He absolutely could not risk turning
out like his father, the angry, oppressive, cruel drunk who screamed at
everyone around him and told them all how they were worthless. Ryan couldn’t
become one of the things he hated most so he could not allowed himself to
drink. Not until the red was gone. He didn’t want to hurt anyone who was awake.
Still, it was hard to hide the anger. It was hard to just muddle through
everything and pretend it was all okay. He couldn’t hold a job because of the
narcolepsy and he’d still black out in the worst places. Gerard drove him to
his classes, but that didn’t stop Ryan from eating cement on the way into the
building, or dropping to the floor while walking down the auditorium steps to
turn in a paper, or pitching into the asphalt while crossing the street to just
get to the fucking parking lot. Some nights he’d dream screaming and he’d wake
everyone else up but himself. Mikey started getting bags under his eyes and
Gerard started drinking this tea for anxiety like it was water. Frank’s fuse
started getting smaller and smaller and even Ray looked tired.
Ryan felt like a poison to everyone who put up with him and he couldn’t even
figure out how to stop because he was so fucking angry all the time.
. . .
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said the week before finals. He stood in the hall for the
living room, looking to his family on the couch. Mikey was actually asleep, but
not sleeping well. He was lied out on top of Ray, his hands shaking with
nightmarish unrest. Gerard was sitting on the floor, leaning heavily on Frank.
Everyone awake looked to Ryan with exhausted confusion.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, remorseful. “I’ve been making your guys’ lives hell
when you’ve only ever given me a home and all the chances that I could never
ask for. I’m sorry, guys. I really am.”
No one moved or said a word. Then, Frank sighed and lifted an arm, opening up
his side for Ryan. Ryan shuffled over to him and sat on the floor, leaning
against Frank and hiding his face in Frank’s neck. Frank smelled like
strawberries and toothpaste and Ryan found Frank’s OCD about cleanliness
familiar and endearing. Frank pulled Ryan closer into his side. Gerard reached
around, lying his arm across Frank’s chest to search for Ryan’s hand. Once he
found it, he wrung his and Ryan’s fingers together, pulling Ryan’s hand into
Frank’s lap so Gerard could hold on.
“Tell us what’s wrong, Ry?” Gerard mumbled. “We see it, we can all see it.
There’s something bothering you, been bothering you for so long.” He whimpered
and squeezed Ryan’s hand tighter. “I-it’s not healthy to keep it all in like
this. You gotta let us help you.”
“I’m angry,” Ryan mumbled.
“At what?” Ray asked.
“Everything,” Ryan sighed. “Everyone. Not, not you guys. Just, the world.” He
slumped a bit, trying to let the anger go, or at least bottle it up so he
didn’t lash out at his friends. “There are so many evil people in the world,”
he mumbled. “So many things wrong with them and there’s nowhere near enough
people to help fix it.”
“Yeah,” Frank agreed. “Nice of you to finally get on board with my view.”
“Your view of the world is hardly what I’m feeling,” Ryan said with a tiny
smile.
“What are you feeling, then?” Frank asked. “Cause I’m chaotic good.”
“And I’m chaotically fed up,” Ryan mumbled.
Gerard let out this soft noise of distress and crawled over Frank to wrap his
arms around Ryan. He fell into Ryan’s lap and curled around him, like he was
trying to keep Ryan safe in a sort of cocoon, like Ryan would do with Brendon.
It made Ryan feel just a little bit better. Gerard was warm and familiar and he
really did give some of the best hugs Ryan had ever known.
“The world’s broken, Ryan,” Gerard mumbled. “Even with our soulmates. It’s hard
and it’s violent and it’s even worse when you’re alone. I know you feel alone,
Ryan, I know it has to feel awful and I know you’re hurting and the one person
who would be able to help you is miles away in a bad place, and I’m so sorry.
You don’t deserve this, you really don’t, but it’s all you have right now.
We’re all you have. I-I hope it’s better than nothing.”
“A lot better,” Ryan assured him softly. “So much better.” He wrapped his arms
around Gerard’s waist. “I know what real loneliness is like, Gee, worse than
just being way from my soulmate. I knew loneliness, okay? Just like you did. So
I promise you, what you and your brother and Frank and Ray have given me is so
much better. I live for you guys, you know? And you’ve given me something to
live for, you’ve given me a home. I’m angry, but not with all of you. I love
you guys, yeah? And I will always be grateful for everything you’ve done for
me.”
Gerard nodded, not saying a word.
“I vote we all sleep here tonight,” Frank said with a yawn. “Just, like,
collapse on the floor. Together, right? Maybe the nightmares won’t be there as
long as we’re cuddling, all cute and shit. The mean people won’t be in our
heads cause we’re gonna be in each others’ beds.”
“Are you sure you’re even awake right now?” Ray asked with an audible smile.
“You’re not making any sense, Frank.”
“I am the one who knocks!” Frank growled dramatically, scrambling to his feet,
though his movements were heavy. “Let’s order a pizza so I can throw it on the
fucking roof! I need some hydrofluoric acid to clean my sheets, they’ve got cum
stains that I can’t scrub out!”
“Pretty sure that’s Gerard’s fault,” Ryan snickered.
Gerard groaned, but didn’t let go of Ryan, nor did he pulled away. “I’m sorry
for staining the sheets,” he grumbled. “Though I’m not sure why you’re
complaining. That orgasm was so fucking massive you couldn’t stand for another
ten minutes.”
“T-M-I,” Mikey slurred from the couch. “Fran’, don’ ever liken yourself to
Walter Whi’e.”
Frank cackled and crawled onto the sofa, grabbing Mikey and falling onto his
side, pulling Mikey on top of him. “You fiend!” Frank gasped, maneuvering Mikey
so he was straddling Frank. “I thought you were Janet! If I had known, well, I
wouldn’t have…” Frank trailed off and looked away, biting the first joint of
his finger. Mikey rolled his eyes and slumped on top of Frank, long limbs
splaying out, and effectively trapping Frank.
“No!” Frank wailed, flailing uselessly under the younger man. “How could you!
How could you!”
“Shu’ up,” Mikey mumbled. “Please…”
“I’m gonna get some more blankets and stuff,” Ray said with a soft grin. Ryan
looked up at him and nodded, squirming a bit.
“Gee?” Ryan called out. “Let me up?”
Gerard nodded, rolling off Ryan and onto the floor after letting him go. Ryan
stood and followed Ray, intending to help. “It’s barely seven,” Ryan told Ray.
“Really think we should all turn in?”
“Yeah,” Ray hummed, smiling at Ryan. “Figured Frank had a good idea. Order that
pizza and make a bed on the floor. Maybe watch a movie. Nothing special, you
know? Just something to help all of us relax.”
“Reading week starts tomorrow,” Ryan said.
“Reading week can be four days instead of five.” Ray grabbed all the pillows
off of his and Mikey’s bed, then tried to tug off the comforter. Ryan helped
untuck the edges and tossed the thing over Ray’s head, parting it so the taller
man could see. Then Ryan went to his own room to grab the pillows and the
blankets while Ray took his load to the living room, then went to Frank and
Gerard’s.
“I’m gonna be careful about the cum stained sheets,” Ray said when Ryan joined
him to help. Ryan smirked and nodded, taking the pillows he was handed. “Take
these in,” Ray instructed. “I’ll order the pizza.”
Ryan nodded and went back to the living room, dropping the pillows on the
floor. He grinned when he saw Frank was struggling with all his might while
Gerard watched and giggled. There was this light to Gerard’s eyes and Mikey was
singing loudly to drowning out Frank’s battle cries as he fought to push Mikey
off. Everyone was having fun, despite their exhaustion, and when Ray came up
behind him, it felt like their night was complete, so long as everyone was
there.
He couldn’t feel any anger.
. . .
“But they’re not going to put me into school,” Brendon mumbled. “I’m sad. I-
I wanted to go to school.”
“I wish you could have gone,” Ryan sighed. “Could’a found out where you are,
you know? Learned more. Maybe your last name or something.”
“You don’t know my last name?” Brendon asked.
“Do you?” Ryan also asked.
Brendon faltered, then shook his head. “I don’t know it.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s not your fault.”
“Feels stupid,” he mumbled. “I should know it. It’s my own name.”
“You’re not to blame for what you don’t know,” Ryan told him softly. “It’s the
fault of your parents.”
Brendon mumbled something unintelligible and curled even closer. “It’s cold,”
he said. “Wherever I am. It’s really cold.” Brendon held his hands up and Ryan
whimpered when he saw that they are red. “It’s weird,” Brendon mumbled. “Don’t
remember it being this cold.”
“Do you not like the cold?” Ryan asked just because he was always pretty eager
to learn something new.
“No,” Brendon said. “I don’t.” Brendon put his hands back in his lap. “You told
me, a long while ago, that Ray and Mikey were gonna get married?”
Ryan nodded. “Things didn’t happen that way,” he said. “Frank wants to marry
Gerard.”
“So they’re gonna get married?”
Ryan shrugged. “Someday.”
“I wanna get married someday,” Brendon said. “My older sister talks about it a
lot. She wants to get married. Mom wants her to get married too. She wants
grand kids.”
Ryan opened his mouth to promise Brendon would get married, when Brendon said,
“maybe if I give my mom grandkids, she’ll love me. I can marry a girl, right?
She’ll be pretty. And she’ll smile when she sees me. Like you do.”
Ryan felt like his heart had just gotten torn out by a fucking eleven year old
kid.
. . .
“You slept like a fucking log,” Mikey said when Ryan finally did wake up. He’d
woken up alone in the mountain of pillows and blankets. It had felt like the
second strike. He’d known he only had one left and he hadn’t known what would
happen if that third one were broken. Ryan had gotten up and wandered into the
kitchen to see everyone eating donuts. There was only one donut left and it was
one of those apple-splitter-whatevers that made Ryan sick. The coffee pot was
empty, which was the third straw, and all the recovering Ryan had done last
night was for shit.
“You okay, Ry?” Frank asked with a frown.
“No, I’m not!” he snapped. “Brendon’s fucking talking about marrying some
pretty girl and now I have to make another pot of coffee and you guys left me
with that gross thing when you know that I don’t like apple flavored pieces of
fucking shit!”
Everyone was silent as Ray wordlessly held a plate in view with two glazed
donuts.
Ryan hung his head, pissed now with only himself. “I’m sorry,” he said after a
long moment. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thought we’d hashed this all out last night,” Mikey said, expressionless.
“We did,” Ryan sighed. “It’s me again. Jesus, it’s me.”
“Sounds like it’s Brendon,” Gerard pointed out. “He was talking about getting
married?”
Everyone’s talking about getting married. “Yeah, he was,” Ryan said. “Talked
about marrying a girl to give his mother grandchildren so he’d be loved. Which
hints me in to these deep seeded needs to fit whatever his parents say, meaning
he’s definitely going to be pretty dead set on fitting all the major
conservative ideals through his prepubescent years, maybe into adolescence.”
“Meaning…” Mikey trailed off, waiting for Ryan to fill in the blanks.
“Meaning he’s going to be raised in a rigid environment and he’s going to be
very against people like me,” Ryan said.
Mikey frowned. “Someone getting a college degree?”
Ryan stared at him like he couldn’t understand why Mikey didn’t understand.
“Someone who takes it up the ass from other men.”
“Gay people!” Frank exclaimed with a grin and a nod. “Yeah, they’re, he’s gonna
be against the homosexuals.”
“You’re a homosexual, Frank,” Gerard sighed.
Frank paused. “… Oh yeah.”
“Oh,” Mikey echoed with an eye roll. “Yeah.”
“It’ll be the ideals of his parents,” Ray said. “Not what he truly believes. As
long as you’re there to steer him straight, he won’t be truly against it.”
“And that’s gonna go over so well in his teenage years,” Ryan said
sarcastically. “Think about it. Parroting everything his parents say, and then
he realizes that I’m in his head because we’re supposed to be together, in a
way. He’s gonna fight me. He’s gonna fight me with everything he has and it’s
going to kill me. He’s going to tear my insides out. Eviscerate me, jesus, he’s
gonna kill me when he fights me.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Gerard whimpered.
Ryan shook his head. “Not any of yours’ faults,” he sighed. “Just, I keep
taking it out on you guys and it’s wrong of me. None of you deserve the way
I’ve been treating you and I’m a piece of shit and I’m just… Tired of making
excused. So I’m just sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Gerard said while everyone else just pointed Gerard to throw in
their consensus. “When you sleep like that, but then dream about this, and then
wake up to no coffee? I’d be pretty upset too. I fucking need my coffee, you
guys know that.”
Ryan smirked and raised a hand to salute Gerard. It was nice to get that sort
of sympathy.
“None of us have had to dream like you do,” Mikey added. “We have no idea how
hard it is. I’ve read that it begins to physically exhausted you like you were
actually awake the whole time anyways. Maybe you should look into these, like,
drugs? They give you power naps and shit, but they shove you so far deep into
the REM cycle that you get the time of three hours of sleep in, like thirty
minutes.”
“And risk messing up the dreaming?” Ryan shook his head. “No way. I can’t take
that gamble.” He took one of the donuts that they’d reserved for him and began
to nibble on it. “Brendon’s all I have, you know? Brendon in the dreams, just
his first name and his face. If I lose the dreams, then I lose him forever.”
Mikey nodded, expression solemn. “Wish you could just, like, put a GPS in his
head. Take shit into dreams, you know?”
“I can’t take anything into his head,” Ryan said. “It’s his head. Not mine. And
anyways, it’d be a shadow of whatever it’s meant to be. It wouldn’t work. It
wouldn’t be of any use to me and it could probably complicate shit. He could be
scared by the technology or think I’m a weirdo or a, a plant or something from
Terminator. You know that, right?”
Mikey nodded again. “Sucks,” he mumbled.
Ryan grimaced and shook his head. “Sucks,” he agreed.
Chapter End Notes
     life sucks and then you die
***** Scream at the Mirror Just to Be Heard *****
Chapter Summary
     downhill must end in an awful way
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Aren’t you scared of getting lots of scars?” Gerard asked when he drove Ryan
to his last final. “I mean, you fall all the time. You hit the dirt like a
fucking brick. Aren’t you scared of scarring and stuff? On your knees or elbows
or even your face?”
Ryan shrugged, watching the world crawl by. Traffic was a bitch. “Hasn’t really
been that high up on my list of concerns.”
“Don’t you think it should be?” Gerard asked. “What if you hurt something
really bad when you fall next time? What if you mess up your face so bad you
need plastic surgery? I wonder if Brendon would make you look like you always
are in the dream? Do you think you have control over your own image even though
you’re in his head?”
“As far as I can tell, the only thing I bring in there is myself,” he sighed.
“But, I mean, maybe Brendon would change how I look, instinctually. It’s his
playing field. I just don’t get it, I’m not a scientist, I don’t work with
dreams like this.”
“Have you ever considered maybe contacting a scientist?” Gerard asked. “Like,
like get someone to help you. Or help you figure this out. Someone who
specializes in the soulmates thing.”
Ryan paused. “Actually, I’ve never even thought of that,” he admitted. “I mean,
what’s the worst that could happen, right? And it’s still my brain. Whatever
they could want to do to me would have to be okay-ed by me. Maybe I should try
that. Maybe they could help.” He began to smile a bit, though it wavered. “What
if they could tell me how to get to Brendon?”
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Gerard said with a grin. “Even if they can’t, they
can teach you so much about the dreaming. And maybe about why you’re with
Brendon.”
Ryan nodded, tapping his fingers on his bouncing knee. “I really need to get
home,” he said.
Gerard giggled, shaking his head. “After this final, Ry.”
. . .
Ryan blacked out in the middle of his final.
The girl sitting next to him was a med student and she had a panic attack in
the middle of attempting to check his vitals.
Gerard saw when the ambulance pulled up and ran inside to tell everyone not to
worry, that Ryan was okay, just narcoleptic. Ryan had told the professor about
his ordeal during the first class of the semester. The professor just hadn’t
cared to remember.
Ryan came back to consciousness only to be slapped in the face with a $750 fine
for the false emergency response call.
He ended up punching a hole in the wall of the campus bathroom, screaming at
his reflection.
Brendon hadn’t said a word to Ryan in the dream that had knocked him out.
. . .
“Things’ll get better,” Mikey told him as he held an unresponsive Ryan Ross on
the couch. Ryan’s knuckles were bloody and there wasn’t any color to his
features. He probably looked dead. “They’ll get better.”
. . .
The next few dreams, Brendon didn’t say a thing to Ryan. It felt like there was
a wall between them that he couldn’t knock down. He tried to talk to Brendon,
coax him into responding, but nothing worked. Singing didn’t work, telling him
stories didn’t work, asking questions or just telling him stupid things.
Nothing worked. He felt like he and Brendon had just taken ten huge steps
backwards from where they’d been.
But Ryan refused to give up.
Not while he still remembered what Brendon looked like when he smiled.
. . .
Brendon didn’t speak until he turned twelve that summer.
. . .
The first thing Brendon said was, “I’m sorry.”
. . .
”I really am,” Brendon whimpered. “I-I don’t know why I ignored you. I don’t
know what happened. Just, I c-couldn’t see anything, couldn’t say anything,
couldn’t even think. Everything felt broken and I just, I f-f-feel like I caved
in. Like, like an actual cave in, like everything in me collapsed. I couldn’t
breathe.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ryan whispered, just insanely relieved to hold Brendon in his
arms again. The wings weren’t wrapped around them because Ryan couldn’t stand
being caught up in someplace that small, not right now. The wings were between
Ryan’s body and the wall and it hurt, but he ignored the pain for the sake of
Brendon’s comfort. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t
your fault.”
“But how I ignored you was,” he whimpered. “That was mean of me. I-I’m sorry,
Ryan. I’m really, really sorry. They keep telling me you’re not real. I don’t
want them to be right.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan hummed, holding Brendon even closer. He was getting bigger,
just barely, but enough for Ryan to notice. “Whatever it was that broke you,
it’s okay. I wouldn’t leave you just because you couldn’t handle something. I’m
with you, Brendon. Always.”
“I wish you were with me when I woke up,” Brendon sobbed.
Ryan’s heart was wrenched in two and he flinched like he’d been shot. “I’d give
anything to be there,” he choked out. “I wish I was there. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s so cold when you’re not there,” Brendon cried. He didn’t say anything
else for the rest of the night.
. . .
Ryan woke up exhausted.
“I need to find a specialist,” he said during breakfast, dead on his feet. “A
scientist. Someone. Anyone who can help me, because… I-I don’t know how much
longer I can do this.”
“I may know someone,” Ray offered. “I’ll give them a call.”
Ryan nodded and dropped his head onto the table, jolting his bowl of cereal and
splashing milk on the table and into his hair.
Fucking great.
. . .
“Summer just started, Ryan,” Ray told Ryan the next day. “It’s just past April.
You can totally do this test thing for the whole summer and then get back into
your regular flow for third year. Or, hey, if this thing works? You can stick
with it!”
“But what if it fucks up the dreams?” Ryan asked, feeling like the most
pathetic broken record. No one seemed to levy in the fact that these methods
and pills and hypo roots and shit could mess up Ryan’s head and end the
dreaming. Everything was experimental, nothing was one hundred percent safe. So
nothing was something Ryan would be willing to try.
“Don’t you think that’s a chance you should be willing to take?” Ray asked. But
he looked like he regretted suggesting that immediately afterwards. “Uh, I-
I didn’t mean it like that. Or, I didn’t mean that at all. Can I take that
back?”
“Please do,” Ryan said a bit gruffly.
Ray nodded, ducking his head, afro falling in front of his face to hide
himself.
Ryan sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d done
wrong. “I didn’t mean to sound so angry. Just, it’s a tough subject, you know?
I won’t do a thing if it’s not guaranteed to be safe. For him.”
Ray nodded again, looking up, and looking less dismayed. “Brendon’s important,”
he said. “We don’t really take that into account like you do. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you guys have to think about him all the
time like I do,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “You just don’t. There’s nothing
wrong with it, you know that, right? I mean, I’m not saying you don’t, like,
care about him or something. I’m just saying that he isn’t really a huge part
of your life so I really shouldn’t expect you to act like it. Fake it.”
“But he’s a huge part of your life,” Ray mumbled. “And you’re a huge part of my
life. I should be more considerate.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan insisted.
“I worry about you.”
Ryan winced and nodded. “Yeah, uh, yeah. I get that. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t be sorry for things that you can’t control, though,” the taller man
said, smiling sadly at him. “If you could control it, you know you would make
it easier for yourself.”
Ryan shook his head. “Not at his expense.”
“Right,” Ray said. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Ryan said again.
“It’s gotta be hard.”
“So you guys keep saying,” Ryan murmured. He stood. “Look, I gotta go. I’m
gonna try and get summer classes so I can finish this degree.”
“Don’t you think you’re working yourself too hard to fast?” Ray asked with a
troubled expression.
“Doesn’t matter to me if I am,” Ryan said. “The sooner I’m done, the sooner I
can find Brendon. That’s what I’m working towards. Not the PHD, but him.”
“And that’s really good of you,” Ray said. “But you should take care of
yourself. Just a little. You gotta still be around for him.”
Ryan just waved him off. “Tell the others I’m out.”
. . .
He took three more courses that summer and resolved to take three to four every
summer following. He was going to graduate a year early, at that rate. Ryan
took two classes over the suggested amount the next semester and knew he would
go to grad school after only three years.
He also agreed to meet with Ray’s friend, the scientist who wasn’t actually a
scientist, but a student like him, well into his ninth year of high level
schooling, which honestly made meeting him a hell of a lot easier.
. . .
“So how old is he?” Travis Barker asked, pulling a shitty, wooden chair out to
offer it as a place for Ryan to sit.
“How old are you?” Ryan shot back, irrationally defensive.
“Oh my god,” the other man groaned. “Look, I don’t have time for this, okay? I
have a failed research project and a really drunk friend who’s been ringing my
phone for the past hour. Ray wanted me to meet with you because he thinks
you’ve got something special going on? He didn’t tell me much, he’s a busy guy
anyways, studying to be an accountant is a fuck-ton of math that I’d never want
to do, and there’s a birthday party for my girlfriend in two nights that I
haven’t prepared for at all.”
“Sounds like you’re a shitty boyfriend,” Ryan said without thinking.
Travis scowled at him. And then he started to laugh. “I like you,” he said.
“Ray said you didn’t dick around. Dicking around is fucking stupid and I hate
people who dick around. Tell me about the problem Ray won’t say a word about.
I’m fucking curious and I’m pretty sure I can help. Or at least go through the
motions and pretend I’m helping. Lets me sleep at night.”
“How are you getting this doctorate?” Ryan asked, because this guy was wearing
an Anthrax shirt stained with beer and taco meat and something else that was
either snot or cum. He had tattoos all up and down is arms and Ryan saw a few
on his collar bone and he knew the tattoos had to cover every inch of Travis’s
torso, he just fucking knew.
“I’m not a dumbass, Shirly,” Travis scoffed. “I have an I.Q. in the hundreds,
you dick.”
“In the hundreds is physically impossible,” Ryan said petulantly.
“Terence Tao had an I.Q. from two twenty-five to two thirty.”
Ryan frowned.
“My I.Q is at one hundred and eighty-seven,” Travis said with an arrogant
smirk. He looked really proud of himself. “I ran circles around all the dicks
in my grade. Those little shits didn’t know what hit them. I got an invitation
to M.E.N.S.A.. I’m Tony Stark, but with less money and better hair and a hotter
girlfriend.”
“You have narcissism,” Ryan stated. “You’re a narcissist. Textbook narcissist.”
“Isn’t that a Disney princess or something?”
Ryan made a face. “You’re thinking of Harry Potter.”
“Fuck those books,” Travis said. “Fucking lame. I read them for Ron. That’s it.
Everyone else in that shitty story can suck my dick.”
“Pretty sure half the country would lynch you for saying that.”
Travis cackled and sat in a wheeled, spinning chair, pushing himself forward
and back with his feet. “So, the dreams? The kid in your head?”
“Brendon,” Ryan said. “He’s thirteen now. He had his birthday just two weeks
ago. He’ll be fourteen next April.”
Travis gaped. “Jailbait.”
Ryan flinched and did his best to cover it with a black look. “Fuck you.”
“Hey, I wasn’t saying anything against you,” the man said, hands in the air
like he was surrendering. “Just, he’s a kid. That’s kinda weird. Doesn’t happen
a lot, you know? Soulmates are the perfect pairs and your perfect compliment
rarely crosses a generational gap.”
“That doesn't mean you can call him jailbait,” Ryan snapped.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Travis said. He didn’t sound sorry. Ryan was suddenly too
tired to care.
“Ray said you might be able to help me,” Ryan murmured.
“Do you want the help?” Travis asked with a condescending smirk.
Ryan looked him in the eye and answered, as sincerely as he could, “please.”
Travis faltered. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Okay, uh, then I’ll need to
ask you a few questions.”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll answer anything.”
“Have you and Brendon reached a sexual point in your relationship?”
Ryan’s eyes went wide in horror. “No!” he nearly shrieked.
Travis nodded, turning to write something down on the notepad beside him. “Have
you experienced an erotic or sexual dreams about Brendon, though only in your
own private consciousness?”
Ryan could only stare at him, shocked.
Travis tapped the pen top on the paper. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Ryan choked out.
Travis rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Okay, if we’re gonna do this, I’m
gonna need you to throw all that morality acting shit out the window. This is
gonna be scientific. Straight yes or no, visible data that I can work with. I
need to know about your case before I can relate it to the cases I’ve already
solved.”
“What is there to solve?”
“The narcolepsy?” Travis suggested. “The question about where Brendon is? Maybe
figuring out how to keep you from being exhausted from the dreams? Also, I
think it’d be useful to just gather data from you. Stockpile it, put it into
the system, so other people can see it. And I just want to be able to answer
any question you could have, you know? You’re living in a gray area. I wanna
make things at least a little more solid, less shaky. Not because I think you
deserve it, but because Ray is seriously stressed about you, like, damn. That
guy is a good guy.”
“He is,” Ryan agreed because he didn’t know what else to say.
“So,” Travis said, sitting back. “I ordered some Chinese and it’s taken over an
hour to get here. I’m gonna call them again and then maybe you and I can sit
down and have a chat. Not about Brendon.” He got up and went to what Ryan
noticed was a coffee machine. “I think you and I should get to know each other
before we delve any deeper into moral instability.”
Ryan laughed, a kind of wild sound, shaken and speaking of every emotion
besides happiness. Travis stared at Ryan like he’d grown a second head. “My
whole life since high school has been one single thought. ”Brendon isn’t right,
Brendon’s not right, something’s hurting Brendon.” I live in a constant state
of him and I know that I have him to thank for being alive, because I’d planned
on killing myself if he hadn’t shown up.”
Travis grimaced. “Dude,” he said. “You might want to get a therapist or
something.”
“What the fuck is the point of being alive if you’re only gonna be alone?” Ryan
asked in a tiny, vulnerable tone. He hated showing anyone this weak side, but
Travis was a clean slate. He was already judging Ryan for everything out of his
mouth, so he felt like he could say fuck all and tell Travis whatever the fuck
he wanted.
“I don’t listen to that shit,” Travis said. “I don’t, you know? It’s a hard
life. No sense in us making it any more difficult for ourselves.”
Ryan sighed and finally sat down in the chair Travis had offered. “Why do we
even have soulmates?” he asked.
“Hell if I know,” Travis scoffed. “Hell if anyone knows. Do you know that these
dreams have been documented for as far back as shit can be documented? But just
the dreams. It was actually rare for these people to dream with someone who was
within their ability to reach. So for thousands of years, the entirety of
humanity has just been dreaming about random people and having awesome
conversations.”
“That’s dumb,” Ryan said. “Don’t you think people would have noticed?”
“They weren’t exactly in the limelight of psychology less than century ago,”
Travis chuckled. “Back then, everyone was scared to be labelled insane.”
“Because they’d be sent to horrible conditions,” Ryan said. “And they were
taught to be afraid.”
“Afraid?” Travis repeated. “Dude, come on. I mean, it was all brimstone and
shit, but it wasn’t what consumed them, right? Religion has it’s uses today, if
only for providing an extenuating experience beyond death for people too dumb
to recognize the scientific formula. Jesus and Mohammad and shit like that are
heroes to people today.”
“But you don’t see someone dressed up as Jesus going to hospitals to encourage
dying kids to fight.”
Travis pursed his lips. “Fair point.”
“And why are we talking about religion?” Ryan asked with a frown.
“Because you know they had to think those people in their dreams were angels
giving them divine command,” Travis snickered. “People are stupid.”
“Narcissist,” Ryan said with a tiny smile. “Seriously. There’re meds you can
take for that. They’re called a reality check.”
“You think you’re clever. You’re not.”
Ryan flipped him off.
Travis started to laugh.
“Where’s that Chinese?” Ryan asked with the lingering smile. “I’m kinda
hungry.”
Travis spun in his chair and grabbed his phone. “You’re so lucky my eyes are
bigger than my stomach. I always order enough for my research class. That’s,
like, eight people who spend their lives in their rooms and eat continuously.
Have you ever heard that song “Cells?” By The Servants?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Look it up and you’ll understand nerds better than you ever have before.”
Ryan snorted. “That’s stupid,” he said. “You guys can be summed up with one
song? Don’t you think that’s kinda insulting to yourself? Selves?”
“We’re too enveloped in laughing at other people to care.”
“Seriously,” Ryan sighed. “Narcissism.”
Travis smirked. “You keep saying it. Are you obsessed? Obsessive comme
dreaded?”
“What?” Ryan asked.

“What?” Travis parroted.
“When did we stop talking about soulmates?” Ryan huffed.
“When you asked about religion,” Travis snickered.
“Well, I fucked up,” he said. “Let’s get back to the important shit.”
“Religion is important,” Travis kept giggling. “So important. I’ve always
wondered how people can believe in a god when there’s the Hubble Telescope
pictures. I mean, where is your god if not in these photos?”
“Religion can be useful,” Ryan said with a shrug, not liking to rag on such a
huge topic without anyone to support it. It felt like a massacre more than a
fight. “I mean, you said it yourself. It provides an answer to the question of
what’s after death.”
“But we already have an answer,” Travis shot back. The phone hung in his hand,
forgotten. “There’s nothing.”
“That’s a bit too hopeless for a lot of people,” Ryan sighed.
“Isn’t that the point?”
Ryan frowned. “What do you mean?”
Travis shrugged. “Doesn’t it encourage people to do more with their lives? If
there’s an afterlife, people will stave and stall. They’ll say that it’s okay
to be mediocre because they’ll get all the good shit in heaven. They don’t
appreciate the beauty of this world because they want to be in the next one.
Without an afterlife, it encourages people to just fucking go for it. Because
they’ve only got one shot to do it all.”
“Oddly poetic,” Ryan said.
“Ringing truer than any bell.”
Ryan paused. “Do you really think I’m a monster for being put with Brendon?”
Travis choked on something, laughter or spit. “I never said you’re a monster,”
he said. “And why the fuck do you care what I think? What anyone thinks? Fuck
all of them, fuck everyone who made you feel bad about how fucking old your god
damn soulmate is. That’s ridiculous, Ryan. Fuck them. You shouldn’t even care.
It’s not like they’re in there with Brendon, talking to him and shit, right?
They don’t know a god damn thing about either of you.”
Ryan watched him, taking that blunt opinion and mulling it over. “I like that,”
he finally said. “I’m sick of feeling guilty. I care about him. I’m protecting
him. I need to get over myself. I need to focus on him.”
“And yourself!” Travis insisted. “There is a correlation between the person’s
ability to keep connecting to the dreams and your physical health! Like, like
this one girl? She developed anorexia and she stopped dreaming with her guy.
The dreams only came back once she’d been taken to a hospital and stabilized.”
Ryan groaned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this sooner?” he asked.
“Because most people who need know this end up in the hospital, where they are
then told what I just told you, you dipshit.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes at Travis. “I don’t like how much you are like me.”
Travis laughed and finally dialed the Chinese place for his food.
. . .
“So you really don’t care anymore?” Frank asked with growing excitement. “Like,
like, you don’t wanna write pedophile on your forehead?”
Ryan choked on his milkshake.
“Pretty sure Martin Freeman did that,” Mikey cut in. “He was on a show or a
movie or something. He ran into a park? I think it was a park. And he ran
outside and just screamed—” Mikey stood up from his seat at the outdoor table
of Red Robin with the rest of them, and actually screamed, “I am not a
pedophile!”
“Sit the fuck down!” Gerard flailed, tugging at the back of his brother’s
shirt. “You’re gonna get us thrown out, Mikey, please!”
“I’m an actor,” Mikey drawled as he sat back down. “And as an actor, I require
a certain leniency from my viewers. So, in other words…” Mikey moved to stand
again and Gerard pulled him back into his seat, shoving the last of his onions
fries into Mikey’s mouth.
“Your sacrifice is accepted,” Mikey said after he’d finished the onion fry.
“I’m really proud of you,” Ray told Ryan with a wide smile, stirring his own
milkshake idly with the straw. “It’s really cool that you’re not as bothered by
it as you were before. That’s a lot of anxiety that you no longer have to deal
with.”
“Until Brendon gets old enough,” Frank said.
The two Ways and Ray both shot daggers at Frank with their eyes. Ryan grimaced
and shrugged. “Don’t have to remind me, Frankie,” he said softly. Frank nodded,
head down, shamefaced. “But you’re right,” Ryan added. “It will be a big deal
again once Brendon actually finds out what this is. His parents are keeping him
in the dark about it. He has no idea. But he will find out one day.”
“Does he ask them about it?” Ray questioned, milkshake completely forgotten.
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I just know that he has no idea
what I’m talking about when I hint at it. I’m just his friend in his head. He
doesn’t know anything about soulmates or people, really. Thirteen and he still
thinks I’m an angel. Half the time, I feel like he still doesn’t believe that
I’m real.”
Gerard winced. “I’m sorry, Ry,” he murmured. “That, that can’t feel good.”
“Feels like utter fucking shit,” Ryan said, drinking his own milkshake.
“Absolute agony. I’m scared to breach the subject. Tell him something he isn’t
ready to know.”
“He’ll be ready some day,” Mikey said confidently. “He will.”
“But what if he isn’t?” Ryan asked. “What if I tell him something, anything,
before he’s ready? Is this what parents feel like? They don’t know when to tell
their kid they’re fucking adopted, so they just put it off as long as they can
because they love this kid and the last thing they want to do is hurt the kid,
so they don’t tell the truth, but by not telling the truth, they hurt the kid
anyways. How the hell are you supposed to make that kind of decision?”
“Carefully?” Gerard suggested weakly.
“Carefully,” Mikey scoffed. “Gee, I love you, but really?”
“I want to give Ryan some sort of advice,” the older Way whimpered. “Look at
him!” He gestured at Ryan. “He’s distraught!”
“Stupid advice is stupid advice,” Mikey shot back. “He doesn’t wanna hear
stupid advice, he wants to hear actual, logical, sound input. He wants to be
given answers, wants to be told what to do. Not being told that he needs to be
careful. Ryan’s only ever been careful! He walks on eggshells all day long for
Brendon! He’s been careful for all these years, and careful isn’t working. He
wants something new.”
“And what do you have in mind?” Frank asked.
Mikey made that face where his lips get thin and tiny. “I haven’t got shit.”
“Then stop being a dick to your brother.”
Mikey went back to his milkshake sullenly, but didn’t argue.
“I wish we could help,” Ray sighed. “I mean it, Ryan. You’re doing better, and
that’s amazing, but I’m guessing Brendon isn’t?”
“Brendon’s not the problem,” Ryan told him. “The problem is what he doesn’t
know. He can’t do anything about what he doesn’t know. And what he doesn’t know
is where he is, what his last name is, and how he can get out. He can see out
three windows in that whole house while the rest re boarded up. All of them
look into dark, green trees.”
“Well, we know where he isn’t,” Mikey said. “Arizona.”
“Or Vegas,” Frank added. “Or Utah.”
“Utah has five national forests,” Mikey announced dryly. “Guess again,
Frankie.”
“At least I’m trying to help,” the smaller man grumbled. “All you’re doing is
shutting ideas down.”
“I just suggested Arizona!” Mikey cried out indignantly.
“Stop arguing with every word I say!” Frank snapped.
“Stop being children,” Gerard mumbled.
Frank and Mikey both turned to scowl at Gerard. Gerard flinched and ducked his
head.
Ryan frowned. “Both of you are being dicks.”
Frank and Mikey looked to Ryan, then their scowls wilted under Ryan’s
disgruntled expression.
“Neither of you are helping, anyways,” Ryan continued. “It doesn’t matter if I
know what state or what part of the country he’s in. I still wouldn’t be able
to find him. Not for a long time.”
“Do you want some good news?” Ray asked. “It’s not about Brendon or dreaming or
anything, but I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”
Ryan looked to him and shrugged.
Ray smiled. “Fall Out Boy is coming here for a show.”
Ryan’s face fell.
“That’s not good news,” Mikey told Ray, scowling again, but not at anyone at
the table. “Pete Wentz is a fucking dick. With nice hair and a cute smile. But
a huge fucking dick, still.”
“I-I thought you guys were friends,” Ray stammered.
“We were,” Gerard sighed. “Mainly Pete and Ryan. They’d been friends since the
beginning of high school, I think. Freshman year? They were best friends and
stuff and did a lot together. They even shared a dorm room the first year here.
But as Ryan got more involved in dreaming with Brendon, Pete, uh… He, he
started to drift away.”
“More like turn his fucking back on me,” Ryan mumbled, staring at his hands.
Ray looked around the table with a lost expression, being met only with faces
full of anger. “But he’s a good guy,” he said helplessly. “He, he helps a lot
of people, and he and Patrick are, like, one of the golden couples. He
advocates against suicide and self harm and abuse and stuff. The media says
he’s a really good guy. Everyone says he’s a good guy.”
“You can treat the people who care about you like shit and still be a good
guy,” Ryan told Ray with a resigned look in his eyes. “Because I’ll say that
about him too. Pete is a really good guy. He fights for his friends and he
takes care of the people he loves. He wants great things for all the right
reasons. He’s smart and charismatic and charming and he has his downs, yeah,
that’s what happens when you’re bipolar. But he’s real and he’s good and he’s
only ever done what’s best for the people he loves.”
“Except you,” Mikey grumbled, looking very put off.
Ryan just shrugged. “I’ve accepted it,” he said, tone soft and achingly sad.
“Pete couldn’t stand to watch me suffer. I refused to change, so he left. He
did what he had to do.”
“Which means he won’t begrudge me when I kick him in the dick next time I see
him,” Frank said snippily. “Because it’s what I have to do.”
“You have to kick him in the dick?” Gerard asked.
“For Ryan,” Frank affirmed.
“Please don’t kick Pete Wentz in the dick in my name,” Ryan sighed.
“I do what I want,” Frank shot back, beginning to grin. “I’m gonna kick him in
the dick. So hard that Patrick is going to feel it. And not feel it. Cause
Pete’s dick is gonna be broken. So broken.”
“Please don’t break his dick,” Ryan groaned. “I mean it. I don’t want him to
get mad at me on top of everything else.”
“How do you know he isn’t mad at you already?” Mikey asked. “I mean, he could
be—”
“I wanna see the show,” Ryan interrupted.
Everyone stared at him.
“I wanna see the show,” he repeated. “That’s what they’re coming here for,
right? They’re playing a show. Kinda cool, isn’t it? Isn’t this their first
headlining tour? They’ve only been around for three years and already they’re
headlining. It’s a big deal.”
“Why would want to see them?” Frank asked.
“Because while I’m not Pete’s friend, he’s still my friend,” Ryan explained.
“And friends support each other. I wanna go to the show and support them. Isn’t
this a tour following their first album? Take This to your Grave? It’s a really
good album. Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over is my favorite. It’s the
shortest song on the album, but I couldn’t stop listening to it that first
week. Patrick sounds amazing.”
“You actually listened to it?” Mikey asked, incredulous.
“I own it,” Ryan told him softly.
A quiet fell over the table, before Gerard finally asked, “why’d you do that to
yourself, Ry?”
“I’m not his friend,” Ryan said again. “But he is my friend. I’d like to see
their show.”
Frank huffed and Mikey looked away. Gerard worried his lower lip between his
teeth and Ray replied, “I’ll get you a ticket. Consider it a birthday present.”
“I’m going with him,” Mikey said.
“I can’t,” Gerard whimpered. “I-I’m sorry, Ryan, but what he’s done is wrong
and I can’t go to that concert.”
“I’m staying away too,” Frank said.
“It can just be me and Ryan,” Mikey declared. He looked to Ray and smiled a
bit. “I think this should be me and him. I’ve missed my times with RyRo, back
when we moped together. We can mope at this show like it’s the old days. It’ll
be fun. Ish.”
“Be safe?” Ray asked with a concerned expression.
“Safer than safe,” Mikey said, the frowned when he thought about what he’d
said.
“We’ll carry mace and shit,” Ryan sighed, feeling very tired. “It’s not a big
deal. Just a show. And Pete deserves the praise, you know? Three years and
already an album and headlining tour? That’s fucking impressive. That’s
everything he’s ever dreamed of having. I’m happy for him.”
“You shouldn't be,” Frank grumbled.
“I’m happy for him,” Ryan reiterated. “None of you can change that. Does it
still hurt? Yes. Do I still feel like I’m less than dirt to him every time I
think of how he’s probably deleted my number from his phone without hesitation?
Fuck yeah I do. But it’s fine. He’s living the life he’s always dreamed of,
guys!” Ryan looked around the table with a beseeching expression. “He’s
achieved his fantasy, the holy grail he’s firmly believed in since forever! I’m
happy for him, despite what he did. Why can’t you guys be happy for him too?”
“Because he wasn’t around for that one night where you drank a dozen beers and
begged for me to explain why he left you,” Gerard whimpered.
Ryan frowned. “I, I don’t remember that.”
“Good,” Frank added. “You were a wreck. You wanted someone to tell you why he
did that. None of us could tell you why. Made us feel almost as shitty as you
had to have been.”
Ryan looked down with a grimace and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry about
that.”
“It’s fine,” Mikey huffed. “It is. Ryan and I are going to the show. Maybe
we’ll even hang around after and see them at the end of it. I’ve heard that
Pete can be pretty social on his way back to the bus, especially with that
Anthony guy.”
“Andy Hurley,” Ryan corrected thoughtlessly. “He’s the drummer.”
Mikey shook his head. “Whatever. We’re gonna try and see Pete. Maybe catch up.
Maybe confront him. Maybe throw acid in his face.”
Ryan looked horrified. “Mikey!” he exclaimed, kicking Mikey’s shin as hard as
he could underneath the table. “Dude, that’s not okay! Not even as a joke! You
don’t know the sick things people do, that’s not fucking okay!”
“Fine, sorry,” Mikey groused. “I won’t throw acid in his face. But I will kick
him in the balls. For Frank.”
“You’re my hero,” Frank giggled.
“The hero you need,” Mikey drawled. “But not the hero you deserve.”
“I’d rather have your brother, anyways.”
Mikey pouted. “Love me.”
“I’ll love Gee,” Frank hummed. “Forever. Even without a contract.”
Gerard tensed a bit. Ryan sighed when he realized that they still weren’t a
hundred percent. Things weren’t gonna get any easier for a very long time.
. . .
“I got us tickets,” Mikey told Ryan the next day. “It’s in July.”
Ryan nodded. He had to work on grad school applications and final financial aid
and writing for scholarships, not to mention seeing Travis once a month. He was
going to drown himself in everything he could so he wouldn’t have to think
about Pete.
. . .
”I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” Brendon mumbled, sitting across
from Ryan. It was going to take Ryan a long time to come to terms with the fact
that Brendon was growing up and didn’t want to be coddled. He didn’t want Ryan
to hold him and wrap the wings around their bodies. He didn’t go to Ryan for
the same comfort he used to. Ryan’s wings felt heavier every night.
“These are just dreams,” Brendon continued. “You tell me you’re real, but mom
says you’re not. My mom’s never been wrong before. She’s always right. My dad
says so. And when I talk about you, they get meaner, cause they’re tired of me
being an idiot. I don’t wanna be an idiot. I wanna be normal so they’ll be
nicer. I just have to stop pretending you’re real.”
Ryan hung his head and took in, then let out, a long breath. He didn’t want to
look up at Brendon. He hated every word coming out of the boy’s mouth. It’d
been easier to convince Brendon that Ryan was real back before Brendon started
pressing to be what his parents wanted so he couldn’t get hit anymore. But now,
the boy was listening to his parents like they were prophets or something. He
couldn’t talk to Brendon anymore. The boy wouldn’t pay attention. Brendon was
full of lies and manipulated thoughts. The kid couldn’t think for himself. Not
yet. So for now, Ryan just had to sit and listen to Brendon deprecate
everything Ryan’s ever tried to do to help him.
“I think, if I keep saying you’re not real when I’m awake, you’ll go away,”
Brendon kept saying. “I want you to go away. So then I can tell them I got rid
of you and they’ll maybe let me be there for my little brother’s first
birthday.”
Ryan just stared at the floor.
“I-I want you to go away,” Brendon said. “Please go away.”
“Where is this coming from?” Ryan asked, finally looking up. “Just last night,
you were telling me all about how you love listening to your sister’s Celine
Dion C.D. through the walls. You told me you’ve never tasted chocolate and that
you wanted to see a waterfall one day because you heard your brother talk about
the seven wonders of the world. Now you want me to leave?”
Brendon nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. “These past few months, I-I’ve
been telling my parents I know you’re not real. And, and now I know you’re not.
They haven’t hit me in weeks. I think I can be better. I think they’ll maybe
stop disciplining me.”
“Is that what they call it?” Ryan asked with a sigh. “Disciplining? What did
you do to deserve it?”
“I kept saying you were real,” Brendon replied with a shrug. “I broke a dish
one time. I don’t always finish my chores when I should. I accidentally went
over in my outdoors time. Only fifteen minutes outside, or my dad will come
looking for me, and he would always be really angry when he found me. But I’m
getting better at following the rules. I even figured out how to make dinner
salads like my mom likes. I think they’re starting to like me.”
“Sounds like you’re a regular Cinderella,” Ryan mumbled.
“Don’t be mean,” Brendon said with a frown. “I’m doing the best I can! I wasn’t
any good for most of my life, but now I’m really trying to change. I’m gonna be
someone they wanna hug and stuff. Then I’ll be able to go out with them to
lunch and church.”
“Church?” Ryan repeated. “You’re religious?”
“We’re Mormon,” Brendon affirmed with a proud grin. “We’re the best Mormon
family in the town, my mom says. People love us. They wanna meet me. I just
have to be good enough so I don’t embarrass my parents with my stupidity.
They’re so tired of how dumb I am. I can’t even read!”
“Because they wouldn’t let you learn…”
“No, that’s not true,” Brendon said, even though it was. “They asked me if I
wanted to learn when I was really little. I told them no and I tried to bite my
mom’s thumb off. I don’t remember it, but they said it happened. I was a
monster to my mother.”
“It didn’t happen,” Ryan tried to convince him. “It couldn’t have. And parents
are responsible for teaching their kids the things they need to survive. They
should’ve taught you to read anyways. It’s their job.”
“I’m too stupid to learn to read,” Brendon mumbled.
“But you’re not stupid!” Ryan stressed. “You’re not! Your brain functions
perfectly and you can learn the lyrics I teach you with just one run through.”
“Why do you have wings?” Brendon asked, obviously wanting that conversation to
end.
Ryan faltered. “You gave them to me.”
Brendon frowned. “That was stupid. You don’t have wings. You’re not an angel.”
Ryan faltered. “… Oh.”
“Yeah,” Brendon huffed. “You’re not an angel. That’s sacrilegious. You need to
get rid of those.”
“I can’t,” Ryan choked out. “It’s not my dream. It’s yours.”
“Then I’ll get rid of them on my own,” Brendon said, staring at the wings. He
narrowed his eyes, like he was concentrating.
At first, Ryan thought that it wasn’t going to work. He was pretty sure that it
would have to be a conscious change in Brendon’s perception of the world after
the dream ended, that Ryan’s wings would be gone the next time they were
together. But then there was this horrible, searing pain from the base of his
spine.
Ryan choked on a noise of confused pain. He bent forward, going down on his
hands and knees as he tried to breathe. It felt like his ribcage was crushing
the rest of the organs beneath, that his spine was collapsing. Ryan’s whimpers
and groans were strangled as he tried to keep quiet. The pain was only skin
deep, and he prayed that it wouldn’t get any worse.
“Brendon,” he gasped. “S-stop, please…”
“You’re not real,” Brendon said. “I can do whatever I want. You’re not real so
you can’t feel it.”
Ryan whimpered, then screaming. The pain spread up into the winged limbs. Ryan
felt like everything was on fire. He screamed louder, the agonized sound
trailing off into sobs of pain. He felt something burning like ash fall onto
his skin. Ryan dropped to the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore. The
pain crippled him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see anything even though
his eyes were open. He writhed in the dirt, sobbing and screaming and begging
for Brendon to stop.
“You’re not real,” Brendon mumbled, mostly to himself.
When it finally ended, Ryan didn’t get up for a long while. After what felt
like hours, he crawled to the wall. He used it to pull himself up, barely able
to stand. Ryan craned his neck and barely got a glimpse of snapped bones and a
few charred feathers.
“You burned them,” Ryan gasped, still trying to breathe through the lingering
pain. “You, you burned them off.”
“You’re not real,” Brendon said for the millionth time. “You won’t be here next
time I fall asleep.”
Brendon disappeared.
. . .
Ryan woke up in the hospital.
Chapter End Notes
     ... so how's it goin
***** Bleeding Hearts Staining Shirts *****
Chapter Summary
     it gets a little better, while getting simultaneously worse
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“You were screaming,” Frank said, sitting in the chair beside Ryan’s hospital
bed. Everyone else was gone. They hadn’t been there when Ryan had woken up,
just an hour ago. No one had been there. Frank showed up thirty minutes later
with a cup of coffee and had looked surprised.
“No one could wake you up for a while,” Frank continued to explain. “You
stopped screaming, but you weren’t awake. You just lied there. You wouldn’t
move or anything, it was even harder to find your pulse. Gerard was freaking
out so bad that he couldn’t go to the hospital with me and Mikey. He was
throwing up his guts into the toilet when we left.”
“And you didn’t stay there with him?” Ryan asked, frowning. He felt like every
bone inside him wanted to twist out of his body through his throat, and
focusing on everyone but himself made it easier to ignore.
“Why would I stay?” Frank scoffed. “He doesn’t want me anyways.”
Ryan let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling. No one had even bothered
to ask Ryan if he was okay, and Ryan was too weird of a person to volunteer the
information on his own volition. “Why do you think he doesn’t want you, Frank?”
Frank scowled at his drink. “Nothing,” he said stubbornly.
“Nothing?” Ryan repeated. “Because I’m pretty sure this has a lot to do with
you wanting to be married and Gerard not being ready.”
“He hasn't been ready for four years,” Frank snapped, easily letting Ryan in.
Ryan knew he just wanted to get pissed about it with someone around to listen.
“I’ve been giving him all the time in the fucking world, but he says he still
isn’t ready! Would he be ready if it was someone else? If it was Lindsey?”
“Lindsey? Who’s she?” Ryan asked.
“Some girl at his office,” he huffed. “The comic place, whatever. Where he
works, where he gets published. She’s some cheeky chick who works with him and
makes sure he doesn’t make his usual awful grammatical errors. He talks about
her all the fucking time, gushes about her, makes fucking goo-goo eyes! I
fucking hate the cunt!”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
Frank sneered at Ryan, and Ryan flinched, unable to hide it. Frank didn’t back
down or even soften his expression. That was how far gone he was. “You shut the
fuck up,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear your shit. You’ve been telling him
that it’s okay to just get all wishy-washy and limp on me, like what I want
doesn’t matter when it comes to his fucking problems! You’re just like her! You
justify him being a dick and ignoring my needs because he’s so fucking fragile
and needs to be pampered and given everything he needs because he’s the fucking
victim!”
“Please stop,” Ryan whispered, having severely overestimated his ability to
shut down his own emotions during this… this fucking slaughter, jesus. He
wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to handle Frank like this. He could barely
take in a full breath.
“Gerard needs to fucking grow up like the rest of us!” Frank barged on, eyes
glinting with something dangerous. “He needs to wake up and nut up and stop
treating me like I’m invincible, like I can’t be hurt! I’m not putting up with
this shit anymore!”
“You’re yelling, Frank,” Ryan pleaded. “Please, just, just calm down…”
“Tell me to calm down again and I’ll fucking strangle you with your own I.V.,”
Frank snarled. Ryan whimpered and shrunk away, actually afraid. Frank didn’t
care. He stared down Ryan before slamming his feet on the ground and storming
out of the hospital room. Ryan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been
holding and lied back on the end, suddenly empty.
“Well, he was a fucking psycho.”
Ryan jumped and twisted to his right, where the voice had come from. The sudden
movement jarred the needle in his skin and Ryan cried out in pain, tearing out
the I.V. and tossing it aside, looking down to where the skin had been torn.
But the vein was fine, so Ryan didn’t care.
“Who’s there?” he called out shakily.
“Me,” replied a lilting, male voice. The curtain to Ryan’s right was whisked
back and he saw a man, with dark hair and narrow, pretty eyes, lying in the
next bed. “Name’s Josh,” he said with a grin that showed his white, sharp
teeth. “I’m your roommate, roomie!”
Ryan lied back on the pillows and nodded his own hello.
“What’s your name?” Josh asked.
“Ryan,” he croaked. There was a random stranger lying across the room and Ryan
relished his company more than anyone else’s in the world right now. He needed
the emotional detachment to recover.
“Ryan,” Josh repeated, just grinning. “Sup, Ryan. Ry-man. What’re you doing
here? Do some awesome, kick-ass stunt that got your leg broken but have girls
crawling all over you?”
Ryan’s brain scrambled for ambiguity. “Had a bad dream,” was all he wanted to
say.
“Me too,” Josh said too easily. “I wanna forget it. Talk to me? I’m not a
weirdo or anything, not anyone creepy and I’m not gonna watch you dress or
shit. I’m just kinda bored. My friend, Tyler, he’s out with Jenna getting
Burger King or something. They’ve been in here the last two days with me and I
wanted them to have a break, so you and I should totally hang and I’ll
introduce you three when they get back.”
Ryan blinked owlishly, trying to absorb all that information.
“So who was the crazy dude?” Josh asked, wiggling to sit up better. “Crazy ex?
Probably not, he sounded like he was complaining about his lover or whatever.
Soulmates, right? Some people date anyways, cause they’re horny and shit, but
he sounded like he thought the other guy was his forever or something.”
“Frank,” Ryan told the other man softly. “His name is Frank. Gerard is his
soulmate, yeah. Gerard’s not ready for marriage, probably won’t be for a long
time. He saw some shit as a kid, went through some more shit in high school.
Frank’s impatient, but I can’t blame him.”
“Frank was blaming it on you,” Josh observed. “So I think you mispronounced
“asshole” as impatient. Because that guy seems like an asshole.”
“He’s not so bad,” Ryan denied, shaking his head. Again, he was grateful for
the mental distraction. “He has a temper, but it’s not the worst thing in the
world. Usually he’s a lot less… hostile.”
“You’re in the fucking hospital,” Josh said with a grin. “You should’ve called
security all dramatically and had them take him away.”
“I didn’t want Frank to leave,” Ryan murmured.
Josh gaped. “You’re in love with him? And trying to sabotage Frank’s
relationship with Gerald? Oh my god, that’s fucking dope! You’ve got all the
best elements of a shitty, Spanish soap opera, estranged uncles and bastard
children and everything!”
Ryan made a face. “I’m not in love with Frank.”
Josh giggled and winked atrociously. “Whatever you say, Ry-man. Your secret is
safe with me until I get wasted.”
Ryan sighed again and settled into the sheets. “I’m tired,” he mumbled,
shutting his eyes and breathing past the pain that still attacked his body like
a fucking tsunami. “Just, I had a really bad night. Do you think we could maybe
talk later? I, I need to think.”
“Don’t,” Josh said, suddenly solemn. “Whatever it was, you don’t want to think
about. You shouldn’t think about it. It’s better to think of anything but that,
okay? Don’t torture yourself with everything you wish you could have done, but
weren’t able to. Just… just, don’t think. Please.”
Ryan stared at Josh for a long moment. “What happened in your dream?”
Josh smiled, and it was plastic. He didn’t respond.
Ryan bit his lip. “How old are you?”
“Twenty,” Josh replied, the smile becoming a bit less like silicon. “How about
you?”
“Twenty-one,” he said. “I’ll be twenty-two in a few months.”
“Dude!” Josh laughed. “You’re fucking ancient! Oh my god, you should totally
buy me beer. And vodka. Maybe some tequila and orange juice?”
“I’m not gonna do anything illegal,” Ryan sighed.
Josh pouted. “Even if it makes you feel better?”
“The only person it would help is you.”
Josh giggled and shrugged. “Got me there.”
“Why do you smile so much?” Ryan asked. The other man faltered.
“People don’t smile enough,” he finally explain. “They’ve maybe got shitty
lives or shitty people in their lives or they’re just shitty and grumpy. But
not enough people smile and they don’t smile enough and it kinda sucks. So I
smile as much as I can and hope it helps. Little kids smile back. So do some
adults. The elderly are just dicks, though, they never smile. Some of them even
scowl at me! I hope I never grow old.”
“Doesn’t your face get tired?” Ryan pressed.
Josh really giggled. “No one’s ever asked me that,” he laughed. “You would’ve
thought someone would’ve asked that sooner. That’s so weird.”
“So does it?”
“Not really,” Josh said. “I don’t remember there ever being a time where
smiling has hurting. I mean, the fake smiling, for a camera? That’s different.
That hurts a lot. Faking a smile is the hardest thing to do sometimes, but it’s
the easiest thing you can do. Or the easiest option.”
“Do we have to get existential while I’m on a drip?” Ryan asked. “I’m a psych
student, I could tear open every word you say like a frog in a middle school
biology lab. All your cute little organs all labeled and laid out.”
“Gross,” Josh giggled. “A psychologist? You sure you don’t mean serial killer?”
“I’m meant to profile serial killers,” Ryan said dully. “Not join them. Though
the option is always available to me.”
“That’s awesome,” Josh said. “Wouldn’t it be kinda freeing?”


“To do what?”
“To be a serial killer.”
Ryan stared at him. “Really?”
Josh shrugged.
Ryan sat back and instead stared at the wall in front of him. It had a
whiteboard on it with scribbled information about the nurses that were to take
care of Ryan and when. He tried to think about what Josh said. The more he
thought, the more alarmed he became as he realized Josh’s words had merit.
“It can help a lot,” Ryan relented. “In the sense that it is a pure, unbridled
release of some of our most lethal emotions and thoughts. It’s therapeutic in
the sense that everything you would keep bottled up would be brought out of
you, at least through the physical exertion required to kill someone. But it’s
not morally sound. Many people would be unable to even point a gun at someone
if their own life depended on it, not until it was the final option, and some
would rather turn the gun on themselves. The trauma coming from the act of
murder would worsen the person committing it.”
“Plus, you’re killing someone,” Josh said with a nod. “That’s fucked up.”
“You’d be investigated and put in prison,” Ryan added. “The one time release
would leave you so much worse off.”
“So, moral of the story is that murder still isn’t a good idea?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “And then some.”
Josh grinned wider. “I like talking to you. You’re smart and you don’t say I’m
stupid or tell me to shut up when I say stupid things or ask stupid questions.
Teachers says there’s no such thing as a stupid question, but we all know
that’s bullshit. There are plenty of stupid questions out there, especially
when we have so many stupid people, driving around and making babies.”
“You don’t seem like the cynical type,” Ryan observed lamely.
“I’m not,” Josh agreed. “I’m an optimist! I swear it. Sometimes.”
Ryan pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything.
“Tyler’s gonna be here soon,” Josh said in a softer voice. Only then did Ryan
remember that something had to be wrong with Josh too. “He’ll be here soon.”
Ryan just nodded.
. . .
Tyler didn’t come back until later at night, way past visiting hours. The
nurses let him in with sad looks cast towards Josh, and Ryan’s heart sunk. The
happy man next to him had obviously been through something hard. He wished good
things didn’t happen to the few people capable of boundless hope like Josh was.
Frank never came back.
No one showed up to visit Ryan for the rest of the day.
Josh was asleep when Tyler came back, and Tyler introduced himself to Ryan with
a soft voice. He asked if Ryan knew why Josh was in the hospital, and Ryan said
no. Tyler nodded and settled in the visitor’s chair and didn’t speak for the
rest of the night.
Ryan fought sleep hopelessly.
. . .
“You’re here?” Brendon asked, frowning deeply. “I told you to go away! You
can’t be here anymore! You’re not supposed to be here, I don’t want you here!”
Ryan sat on the floor, his back to the wall, knees to his chest, staring at the
floor. The wings weren’t on his back anymore, but he could still feel fire on
his skin. It hurt like nothing else he’d ever known, a slow burn of pain. Tears
fell down his cheeks as he cried as quietly as he could. Despite the blood
rushing in Ryan’s ears, he could still hear every word of damning distaste
Brendon was saying to him.
“I said I want you to go away!”
“I can’t,” Ryan murmured. “It’s impossible. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”
“Well, I want you to go,” he sneered. “This isn’t fair. I’m trying to be a good
kid, I’m trying to be what my mom needs me to be, but I can’t do that while
you’re here! You’re evil! You have to be! You showed up as a angel, the bible
said only demons would try to trick me! Get out of my head or I’ll, I’ll hurt
you!”
Ryan smiled brokenly. “You already have.”
Brendon’s sneer faltered and he looked at Ryan for a long moment, just staring
at him. “Did it actually hurt?” he asked in a smaller voice. “You acted like it
hurt.”
“Do you really care?” Ryan asked. “You say I’m not real, remember? That it
doesn’t matter what you do to me.”
“But, but you say it hurt.” Brendon started to move towards where Ryan sat.
“What if you’re, like, my stomach or something? What if I did something to me?
What if I’m gonna lose a kidney or something? My brother told me about this
girl in his class who only has one kidney. She lost it because she was riding a
horse and fell. They had to cut it out of her.”
“I’m not your kidneys, Brendon,” he said softly. “I’m Ryan. Ryan Ross. I want
to help you.”
Brendon’s tentatively kind expression went flat, before transforming into a
scowl. “You’re not real,” he snapped. “Go away. I hate you.”
Just like that.
Ryan brought his arms around his knees and hid his face in his own little place
of feeblly comforting darkness. He missed the white of his wings.
. . .
Ryan woke up around four the next morning. Tyler was also awake. Josh was still
asleep.
“Hey,” Tyler greeted softly. “You, uh… you okay?”
Ryan nodded, lying.
“You were crying in your sleep,” Tyler told him softly. “Sorry, but I’m kinda
skeptical about you being okay.”
Ryan looked to the ceiling, shutting his eyes for a moment. Only then did he
realize that there were tears clinging to his lashes. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Tyler sighed. “The nurses were talking about some
guy in here, yelling at you? Your ex?”
“Jesus, no,” Ryan sighed. “I-I’m not with Frank. Josh thought the same thing.”
Tyler smirked and shrugged. “Great minds think alike.”
“Why is Josh here?” Ryan asked.
Tyler’s expression closed off. “Why are you here?” he shot back.
“My soulmate thinks I’m not real and burned the wings he gave me off my back,”
Ryan replied steadily, deciding that he really didn’t give a shit what these
strangers knew. None of his friends wanted anything to do with him, and he
needed to get this out. “He has abusive parents and they’ve convinced him that
I’m the devil or something like that, trying to tempt him and take him to hell.
I used to have wings because he called me his angel, but the night I was
brought to the hospital was the night he burned them off my back and told me to
never be there when he fell asleep ever again.”
Tyler looked visibly startled. “Shit,” he murmured. “That’s… that’s horrible.
Did you see him again tonight? Your soulmate? Is that why you were crying?”
“Why so Josh here?” Ryan asked again.
Tyler shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “It’s not my place to say. I
don’t have the details, anyways. I just know that he was okay when he fell
asleep, but then…” Tyler trailed off, something unsettling showing in his
expression. “Josh, he’s not expected to be okay again. Not for a very long
time.”
“He seems fine to me,” Ryan said.
“He’s not,” Tyler sighed. “He’s just good at faking a smile.”
“He said fake smiles hurt.”
“But they’re the easiest thing to do when it’s all you can do,” Tyler added.
Ryan cringed. “I forgot he said that.”
“Josh is a dork,” Tyler said. “But he’s not an idiot.”
. . .
Mikey came to Ryan’s bedside with a box of eight cannolis and a black eye.
“Frank came home drunk this morning,” he explained. “Not sure how he got the
alcohol, considering he isn’t legal until October. When he got home, he started
yelling at Gee. I got pissed, pushed him away, he clocked me in the eye.”
“And so it goes,” Ryan sighed, bringing his hands up to press into his eyes,
keeping the pressure until he saw shapes and specters inside the darkness of
his eyelids.
“Sorry we didn’t show up,” Mikey said. “We, well, I— I couldn’t stand to see
you, try to pretend you’re okay. I don’t know what happened to you in there,
Ry, but it tore you into fucking shreds, and it wasn’t fucking okay. You, you
were thrashing and fighting nothing and begging and it was awful, Ryan. It was
awful. I can’t think of anything worse than what had to have been happening to
you.” Mikey paused, biting his lip. “W-what happened, Ryan?”
Ryan pulled his hands for his eyes and watched the shapes dance on the ceiling.
“Brendon burned my wings,” he whispered. “And told me he never wants to see me
again.”
“Fuck,” Mikey breathed, sitting back in his chair, staring at nothing in what
had to be misbelief. “What, what the fuck? What the fuck, Ryan? Why the fuck
would he do that? Why would he do that to you? You’ve only ever tried to save
him, why the hell would he do that to you?”
Ryan choked on a sob, covering his eyes again. “I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I
don’t know, Mikey. And it hurts.”
“I know, Ry,” Mikey said, reaching out to run a hand over Ryan’s shoulder.
“Fuck, this… I-I never thought, in a million years, that Brendon would do this
to you. I can’t believe he would do this. Jesus, fuck, I, I wanna hurt him.”
“Don’t,” Ryan choked out. “He’s, he’s just a kid. He’s scared and he wants to
be loved.”
“You love him!” Mikey cried out desperately.
“His parents,” Ryan whimpered. “He wants his parents to love him. Not me.”
Mikey scowled, though Ryan could see water in Mikey’s eyes too. “You’re better
than his parents,” Mikey insisted. “You’re better than him. You’re better than
me, than Gee, than Ray, you’re better than fucking anyone I’ve ever known, and
it’s not fucking fair. You don’t deserve to be hurt like this, especially not
by him.”
Ryan looked to Mikey and shrugged uselessly. “It’s what happened. I can’t
change any of it.”
Mikey hung his head and nodded, wiping his eyes and sniffling, sounding
miserable. “I’m tired of mean people hurting the people I love,” was all he
said.
Ryan winced sympathetically. “Well, I-I know Frank is being weird right now,
but he’s not mean. You know that he isn’t. He’s basically your family at this
point, and don’t you dare deny it. He’s just going through some hard stuff
right now. He doesn’t mean to hurt you or Ray or…” Ryan trailed of, unsure.
Frank was a vengeful person. He could very well be out for Gerard’s blood, or
at least his tears. Frank would regret it the moment he saw Gerard cry, but he
wasn’t very understanding while on the rode to breaking his lover.
“He fucking punched me in the eye,” Mikey whimpered. “I-I thought he was my
friend.”
“He is,” Ryan insisted. “He’s just, he’s not doing well. He’s hurt, he just
wants to know why Gerard won’t marry him. He was yelling at me yesterday, okay?
He’s really messed up over this, he doesn’t know what to do.”
“He yelled at you?” Mikey demanded, looking more pissed than broken by the
minute. “You’re in the fucking hospital! Brendon burned your wings! You’re
fucking recovering and he’s yelling at you?!”
“You’re yelling at me,” Ryan whimpered.
Mikey immediately wilted. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan sighed. “Just don’t lose yourself to whatever’s making you
yell. I don’t know if it’s cause you're angry that Frank hurt you, or that
you’re angry Frank wants to hurt Gee, or even if you’re angry about Brendon.
You can’t let yourself become whatever you’re upset about, however
temporarily.”
“It’s not fucking fair,” Mikey whimpered.
“Name one thing that is,” Ryan replied.
Mikey was unable to answer.
“I brought cannolis,” he mumbled instead.
“Can I have some?”
Mikey whirled around, looking in the wrong direction. Ryan pat Mikey’s knee and
pointed to the second bed, to Josh and Tyler, lying together.
“Tyler wants a cannoli too,” Josh said, giggling. Tyler shook his head and made
a cutting motion at his throat to show that he didn’t actually want one. Ryan
smiled good-naturedly and looked back to Josh, who was staring at the cannolis
with a hopeful expression akin to a labrador begging for treats. “Tyler wanted
all the cannolis, but I made him settle for one if he asked nicely.”
“Who is this?” Mikey asked with a raised brow.
“Josh and Tyler,” Ryan said. “They’re my new friends.”
Josh perked up. “I’m Ryan’s friend,” He said with a proud grin.
“So am I,” Tyler huffed, nudging his friend playfully. “Don’t keep him all to
yourself. I’m sure Ryan’s guest isn’t eager to share.”
“Damn right,” Mikey played along. “This kid’s got fire in his lungs. Too many
breathing it in could extinguish the flames. From lack of oxygen. Or something
like that. I failed chemistry, I think.”
“Can you just give them their cannolis so Josh will stop drooling?” Ryan
prodded with a chuckle. “He getting it all over Tyler, ruining his best shirt
and everything. Pity that man, Mikey. He’s so much like a puppy. You love
puppies.”
“I do love puppies,” Mikey affirmed with a grin.
“Donate to the Josh Labra-Dun fund and help feed him cannolis today,” Josh
giggled. “He’ll repay you with puppy love and goo-goo eyes.”
“Okay, okay,” Mikey said with a smirk. He got up and went to the other side of
the room, taking a cannoli out of the tray with a napkin, putting one in Josh’s
lap, then another in Tyler’s. Tyler lamely put his cannoli next to Josh’s in
Josh’s lap.
“I love you,” Josh giggled at Mikey, beginning to eat the first one clumsily
and messily.
“I don’t know you,” Mikey said. “But I love you too. You have pretty eyes. Are
you Indonesian? Or Philipino?”
“I ‘on’t kno’aughfff,” Josh said around the food in his mouth.
Mikey snickered and shook his head, going back to Ryan’s bedside. “I really
like your new friends,” he said. “Especially the one with the pretty eyes. He
eats the food I bring and doesn’t make me feel like I wasted my money.”
“Give me the cannoli,” Ryan sighed, knowing what Mikey was insinuating.
Mikey smiled happily and put the cannoli in Ryan’s lap, who begrudgingly and
sarcastically thanked him.
“I’m spending the night here,” Mikey said.
“Slumber party!” Josh shouted.
Ryan sent Mikey an achingly sincere smile and Mikey returned it with a kind one
of his own.
. . .
“I’m going to tear into Frank next time I see him,” Mikey whispered in the
dark, around two in the morning. All the cannolis had been eaten by mostly
Josh, two of Ryan’s apparently regular nurses, and one by Ryan. “I mean it,
Ryan. He’s being cruel to me and you and probably Gee. I can’t let him go
through all of this and think it’s okay.”
“He’s never done this before because he’s never been hurt like this before,”
Ryan murmured. “You can’t hate him too much. Not for this reason.”
“Because Gerard won’t marry him?” Mikey scoffed. “Ray won’t marry me. I want
him to, we’ve talked about it, he gets all tight lipped about it. Ray doesn’t
want to marry me, and I’m not throwing a fit and throwing punches. Frank’s
being a dick.”
“You’re being kinda inconsiderate,” Ryan sighed.
“And Frank’s being dick,” he hissed. “None of this is okay, Ryan. I’m not being
okay, Gerard isn’t being okay, and Frank isn’t be okay. None of this is fucking
okay and it’s not fair to anyone. Fuck, it’s not fair at all, especially not to
you. You’re in the hospital, dealing with your own awful shit, and we’ve just
been so caught up in ourselves.”
Ryan heard Mikey shift, then he felt the other man’s head on his chest. It make
his body ache, but his heart stopped hurting so much, so Ryan didn’t complain
and relished the comforting touch.
“Why would he do that to you, Ryan?” Mikey whispered brokenly.
“Can we not talk about it?”
He felt Mikey nod. Then he felt Mikey shake his head.
“I can’t, Ry,” he mumbled apologetically. “I can’t just ignore what’s happened
to you. Have you dreamed with him since then?”
“Yeah,” Ryan affirmed softly. “He said he hates me.”
“Is it bad that I want to punch him almost as much as I want to punch Frank?”
Mikey asked. “No, more. I want to punch him more than I want to punch Frank. I
know he’s just a kid who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but jesus. You
can’t treat people like that. You can’t treat Ryan like that.”
“Ryan’s right here,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to talk about him in the third
person. And if you punch Brendon, I’m gonna, uh. I don’t know. I’m not gonna
punch you, I really don’t want to punch anyone. But I will defend him, so I’ll
probably just get between you and Brendon and you’ll end up punching me. I’m
totally cool with you punching me. I can take a hit or two, it’s not hard to
learn how to take a hit.”
“When did you learn?” Mikey asked.
“My dad hit me once or twice,” Ryan replied. “Nothing horrible. I can count the
number of times he did on one hand. And it was usually following me yelling at
him and calling him a piece of shit, so it’s totally my fault, you know? I know
parents aren’t supposed to hit their kids, but it happens. He always apologized
after. It was the only time he’d ever apologize for anything.”
“I never liked your dad,” Mikey grumbled.
“I can’t think of a single person who did,” Ryan agreed. He sighed again and
looked up at the ceiling. “I miss Pete,” he whispered after a moment, maudlin.
“I really do, sometimes. He always had a way of forcing me to look on the
bright side of just about anything.”
“I can miss him too, when the sun’s down,” Mikey said. “Did you know we hooked
up one time?”
Ryan made a face. “Wait, really? While he was with Patrick?”
“Patrick was in the same room,” Mikey said, snickering. “He watched and
everything. It was just making out and clumsy hand jobs, and I choked on his
dick while going down on him. That was the first time I’d ever had a dick in my
mouth, and the first time I ever beat my gag reflex. Thank god for that. Ray’s
huge. It would’ve been mortifying to choke on him the first time I tried to
suck him off.”
“I can’t believe Patrick watched you with Pete,” Ryan mumbled, astonished and
somewhat stupefied. “Just… How the fuck did that even happen? Did you, like,
trip and fall on his dick or something? How do you start having sex with
another person in front of their boyfriend? What?”
Mikey giggled. “You’re adorable when you’re shocked dumb.”
“I don’t understand how that can happen,” he murmured to himself. “I don’t…”
“You’re such a virgin,” he giggled.
“I’m not a virgin,” Ryan said.
Mikey sat up. “What?”
“I’m not a virgin,” Ryan repeated.
It was dark in the room, but Ryan knew Mikey was staring at him.
“Me and Spencer fucked once,” Ryan said. He paused. “No, twice. We fucked
twice. We were just figuring shit out the first time, and then the second time
was when I was drunk. He wasn’t He’d had a crush on me for about three years.”
“Before Linda?” Mikey asked, obviously curious.
“During Linda,” he said. “It’s not rare for people to develop less-than-serious
feelings for another person while separated from their soulmates for extended
amounts of time. It wasn’t anything major, it really wasn’t.”
“He had sex with you,” Mikey said slowly. “While you were drunk. You were
drunk. Only you.”
“Yep,” Ryan affirmed.
“Ryan, that’s messed up,” Mikey said. He sounded like he was frowning.
“Spencer hated himself the next morning, apologized about a thousand times,
even tried to call the police on himself once,” Ryan told him calmly. “He knows
what he’d done was wrong. He cared about it a lot more than I did. Spencer’s my
brother, honestly, it wasn’t that weird. He doesn’t want me anymore, you know
that, I know that, we all know that. If he did, he’d have at least invited me
to his wedding.”
“So you were bothered by it,” Mikey murmured.
Ryan pressed his hands into his eyes like he’d done before. “I was,” he finally
admitted. “Still am. I get it, I really do, he has to prioritize Linda and make
a family for them, but I haven’t heard from him since he explained why I
shouldn’t be at the wedding. That was two years ago. I’ve seen pictures of his
twin sons and they’ve made vacations to Chicago to visit Spencers’ parents so
the twins could meet their grandparents, and I wasn’t even mentioned, Mikey.
I’ll bet a wasn’t. Spencer has been back to Chicago four times these past two
years and not once has he reached out to me. He used to be my best friend. The
only family I had growing up. I would’ve died for him, and now he wants nothing
to do with me.”
“Your life kinda sucks, Ryan,” Mikey said in a tiny voice.
Ryan frowned. “No it doesn’t. Why would you say that?”
“Your childhood friend has abandoned you for his wife,” the other man began to
list. “Your father was a dick. You’ve been told your whole life by teachers
that you won’t amount to a lot, if anything. Pete has left you for music and
just ignored your existence since. Frank and Gee are taking out their problems
on you and now Brendon is denying your existence and practically torturing you
in your sleep.”
Ryan couldn’t deny any of it. “I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t tell me any of
that,” he mumbled, feeling helpless.
“I’m signing you out of the hospital tomorrow,” Mikey said. “You should get
Josh’s number. Maybe even Tyler. They seem like good people. You deserve to
have more good people around. They’ll make you feel better than we ever could.”
“Don’t say that, Mikey. You help me too.”
“You don’t know why I haven’t come to see you until now,” he whimpered. “You
don’t know the real reason.”
Ryan paused, waiting for him to continue. When Mikey said nothing, he prodded
gently, asking, “why didn’t you come, Mikey?”
“Because I didn’t want to hear about your problems,” the other man choked out.
“I, I didn’t want to hear about why you’d been screaming. I didn’t care, Ryan.
I didn’t care about why you were hurt and why we’d had to take you here. I just
didn’t care. Then I felt like a dick and made myself come anyways. I care now,
but I didn’t. Not at first.”
Ryan was quiet, unable to be upset. He understood why Mikey hadn’t cared. He
understood what it meant. He knew that it meant Mikey was under a lot of
pressure, at work, with Ray, with his brother and Frank. It hurt, though. It
hurt a lot more than Ryan wanted to admit. Still, “it’s okay, Mikey. I know
why.” He took in, then let out a shaky breath. “You can leave, if you want to.”
“No,” Mikey choked. “I’m staying. I love you, Ryan. I don’t know what’s wrong
with me.”
“Absolutely nothing,” Ryan assured him in a tremulous voice. “It’s perfectly
normal. You just need a break from everything. That’s all.”
“I don’t want a break from you,” he whimpered. “I love you, Ryan. I do, I
really do. I don’t know what I was doing, I don’t know why I was so mean. I
want to be here for you, till the end of time, especially now, since Brendon
isn’t here for you in the only way he ever was.” Ryan heard Mikey sniffle and
his heart went out to him. “I don’t want to be someone that’s cruel to you just
because they’re having a bad day or something menial like that.”
“You’re exhausted, Mikey,” Ryan said, only able to see that now. “We all are.”
Mikey whimpered and lied his head on Ryan’s chest again. Ryan paused before
finalizing his decision, scooting to the side. He looped his arms under Mikey’s
shoulder and pulled the other man halfway up the bed. Mikey took the hint and
climbed in the rest of the way, curling up against Ryan’s side.
He fell asleep in seconds and Ryan followed him soon after.
. . .
“I heard about why you’re here,” Josh told Ryan the next morning. His face was
solemn and cold, his eyes tired. Ryan hadn’t seen him like that before. He’d
only known Josh for two days, yeah, but Josh was always in a constant of
euphoria, always smiling and laughing and doing everything he could to help
people do the same as he was. Josh wasn’t smiling. That just seemed wrong. “I’m
sorry about Brendon.”
Ryan sighed and looked past Josh, to the window. Tyler had left with Mikey,
both of them deciding to sign out their respective friends and accompanying
each other to the desk.
“It’s weird, you know?” he thought aloud. “I’ve spent the past three years
completely dedicated to him. Every thought, every decision, everything I did
was for him. It’s weird how you can give your life up for someone, and they’ll
just throw it away like it’s nothing.
“But the worst part of it is knowing that I’ve never meant to him what he does
to me,” Ryan continued with a dismal expression. “I wasn’t someone who he
needed. I wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was his parents, and maybe his
siblings. He wanted his family. He never wanted me. He wanted somebody to love
him, but not just anybody.” Ryan picked at the threads of the blanket on his
lap. “He didn’t want me to love him. He just wanted somebody to love him until
the real people did.”
“The real people?” Josh repeated with a frown. “That’s the dumbest thing ever.
Dude, newsflash. You’re real.”
“Not to him,” Ryan murmured. “Not to the one who matters.”
Josh scowled. “Dick.”
Ryan looked to him with a frown. “What?”
“You’re being a dick,” Josh said.
“How am I being a dick?” Ryan asked.
“You’re not real to the only person that matters?” Josh kept scowling. Ryan
didn’t like that expression on his face, especially not when he was the one
putting it there. “How do you think all the people who care about you feel? How
cruel is that? You’re as real as anything to them, and you’re throwing all of
that away for your soulmate. Why would you do something like that?”
Ryan grimaced. “You actually kinda just answered your own question there.”
“There’s more to life than your soulmate,” Josh said.
“A lot of people would disagree.”
Josh looked away. “Well, those people don’t know what it’s like to lose their
soulmate. So they don’t get to talk.”
Ryan paused. “… Why are you here, Josh?”
“I’m not answering that.”
Ryan nodded, turning to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For whatever happened.”
Josh swallowed hard enough for Ryan to see. “A lot of people are.”
. . .
“Did you get their numbers?” Mikey asked as he helped Ryan out of the
obligatory wheel chair and into the car. “Because I think it would do you some
good to have someone that smiley around. Someone who’s so happy and shit. You
need that, Ry. You need happy shit.”
“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Ryan said.
Mikey stopped heading to the driver’s seat like he had been. “Wait,” he said
haltingly. “I thought I was the one who’d been the dick. Is the dick? Is the
dick.”
“Well, I’m being a dick too,” Ryan sighed. “Josh said it. He was right. I mean,
it sucks that Brendon’s acting like this. It sucks that he’s being so cruel,
but he’s a kid. He doesn’t get it. And I’m a dick for acting like his wellbeing
is the only one that matters to me. That his opinion is the only one that
counts.” Ryan turned to face Mikey was the other man sat in the driver’s seat.
“Your opinion counts. You count. I’m being a dick and you matter to me.”
Mikey smirked a bit and reached over to tousle Ryan’s hair. “There’s a lame
chemistry joke in there, am I right?” He sat back and started the car. “I know
I matter to you,” he said in a softer tone as he pulled out of the hospital
pick-up/drop-off roundabout. “And I know you are always looking out for me,
even if I can’t see it, nor you. You’re Ryan Ross, you know? You love everyone
so much that you love yourself to death. You’re the bleeding heart, and you’ve
stained every shirt you own. Why don’t you just give yourself a break, okay?”
“Mikey,” Ryan groaned. “Why do you have to belittle this shit? I’m
apologizing!”
“And I’m accepting your apology,” Mikey said calmly. “I really am, Ry. I am
granting you the grandest of clemency and exoneration. So now you just worry
about making Brendon see the light again, okay? I know it feels hopeless, but
I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Brendon’s a kid, just like you said. He’s
still growing. He’s still changing. And you’re still gonna be in his head every
night, right? So you shouldn’t give up. He’ll keep saying he wants you gone,
but eventually he’ll cave. You’re the only person we know of that’s ever
supported him. He’ll come back to you, you just have to give him time.”
Ryan groaned again. “I just wanna forget,” he said. “Just for a moment.
Please?”
“Tuning in to the loudest, most obnoxious station I know of,” Mikey said,
before he turned to the rap station and blasted Snoop Dogg. “Yeah!” he yelled,
grinning like a loon, and trying to rap. “Uh, I, I got some bitches and money
and I’m gonna have sex and look at their butts and stuff!”
Ryan giggled and shook his head. “Never look for a career in rapping.”
“Not planning on it!” Mikey laughed. “I’d be worse than this guy!”
. . .
Ryan went to bed once he got home. He didn’t sleep. He lied in the bed with
Mikey curled up across from him, Ray just behind Mikey. It was a comfort to see
that even though Mikey was wanting more out of his relationship, he didn’t turn
away from his lover.
Ryan’s phone went off. He looked at caller I.D., and say Josh’s name and the
stupid expression he’d made for his contact in Ryan’s phone, fingers pulling at
the corner of his eyes in a racist rendition of an asian man, stretching his
mouth in a mockery of a smile.
Ryan picked up and held the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he greeted. “What’s up?”
“Can I tell you something?” Josh asked, sounding vulnerable. Ryan didn’t know
him well enough to know if he actually was feeling vulnerable, it was just the
way he sounded.
“Shoot,” Ryan prodded gently.
“No matter what Brendon’s done, d-don’t give up on him.”
Ryan paused, then nodded. “Why’s that, Josh?”
“Cause you never know when you could lose him,” Josh choked out. Ryan could
hear tears in his voice. “You never know when it’ll be the last time you get to
talk to him, when you get to see him, hold him. You never know what’ll happen,
Ryan, so, you, y-you have to take advantage of every second you have. Please,
R-Ryan. Don’t lose him.”
“What happened, Josh?”
He heard Josh sob and his throat constricted.
”She fell asleep in my arms, Ryan,” he whimpered. ”She fell asleep and she
didn’t wake up.”
Ryan felt sick
Falling asleep in the shared dreaming meant death.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He’d never actually met someone who’s soulmate
had died. Especially not with the other person. “Josh, I-I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t let him fall asleep, Ryan,” Josh was begging. “Don’t let him fall
asleep.”
Chapter End Notes
     super duper sorry
***** Not Broken, But Made This Way *****
Chapter Summary
     confrontation and reconciliation
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ryan thought a lot about what Josh had told him before slipping off.
. . .
“I know you hate me,” Ryan said softly. Brendon was sitting as far away from
him as he possibly could. “I know you don’t want me around. But I care about
you, Brendon. I do.”
Brendon looked up at Ryan. His face was contorted in a nasty expression that
Ryan wished wasn’t on his face. He was sneering, looking at Ryan with pure
contempt. It stung, but Ryan kept going.
“I’m not going to leave,” he said. “And not just because I can’t. I’m not going
to leave you because I promised you that I never would, and I intend to keep
that promise. I know you want me to leave you alone, and I will stop expecting
conversation or whatever, but I’m not going to leave. I’m going to stay right
here and be for you even though you don’t want me to.”
Ryan’s spiel was short, and he nodded to himself when he was done, looking
away. He didn’t know if Brendon had really been listening, but he’d said it.
“Why?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice.
Ryan looked up, honestly surprised Brendon had responded. He sighed and looked
away, before giving a shrug and admitted, “because I love you.”
Brendon looked to Ryan with wide, glassy eyes.
Ryan grimaced. “Too much?”
“N-no one’s ever said that to me,” Brendon whimpered, looking younger by the
second.
Ryan felt a bit like throwing up at that confession. Granted, Ryan’s father had
only told Ryan that he loved him maybe once, but Ryan’s friends more than made
up for it after learning about the neglect. Pete had made a point of hugging
Ryan every morning before high school classes started and saying, “I love you,”
into his ear, along with some creative and cheesy pick up line.
“I love you, Brendon,” he said again, softer. “Even if I’m not real to you,
just know that you’re loved.”
Brendon bit his lip. “You look tired, Ryan,” he mumbled.
Ryan managed a smile. “Been in a few wars today,” he replied cryptically.
Brendon nodded and didn’t talk to Ryan for the rest of the night.
. . .
When Ryan got up, Mikey and Ray were making out like crazy next to him. At
first, Ryan didn’t want to get up because his limbs felt heavy and he couldn’t
breathe all that well, just barely managing to drag in air. He knew it was the
exhaustion. But then Ray started to let out these little noises, ones of
obvious arousal, as Mikey began to drag their hips together. And after a
moment, Ray let out this choked moan and shuddered hard enough to make the bed
shake and Ryan darted out from between the sheets faster than he’d thought he
could.
He went into the living room and saw Gerard sitting on the couch with his
laptop, looking at engagement rings.
Gerard looked up at Ryan. His hair was a mess around his face, tangled knots of
greasy black strands, falling in front of his eyes. His skin was sallow and
sickish and his eyes were wild pools of nervous energy while the bags under his
eyes were so dark that they looked like bruises.
“Help me,” he whimpered.
Ryan didn’t hesitate in sitting beside the man and looking at the screen.
“Something in black gold,” he suggested. Gerard typed it into the search bar,
scrolling through the option. He paused over a certain ring, one of black gold
with a silver band in the centre, and a single diamond in the very middle.
“I, I can get an inscription,” Gerard said. “I’ll get it inscribed. “Sorry for
making you wait so long”? Do you think he’d like that?”
“A bit wordy, don’t you think?” Ryan asked with a gentle smile.
Gerard whimpered and nodded, looking back to the screen.
“To the end,” he whispered after a moment. He then nodded again. “To the end.
That’s what it’ll say.”
Ryan nodded. “Gonna order that now?”
Gerard nodded. “Two thousand,” he said. “Plus another three hundred for the
engraving. That, that’s about my paycheck. I can totally get it.” He smiled
shakily to himself and Ryan knew he needed reassurance. “It’s what he wants,
right?”
“What do you want, Gee?” he asked.
“I want Frank to stay,” Gerard responded immediately.
Ryan frowned. “Why wouldn’t he stay?”
Gerard choked on a noise of pain, maybe a sob. “He hasn’t come home since he
hit Mikey,” Gerard whimpered. Ryan saw tears in his eyes. “Won’t respond to any
of my texts. Won’t answer my calls. Won’t respond to Mikey or Ray, either.”
Gerard’s hands were shaking badly and Ryan turned to face him on the couch,
lying his own hand over Gerard’s. “I don’t know where he is, Ryan,” he cried.
“I don’t know where Frankie is.”
“Shit,” Ryan murmured, immediately pulling out his own phone. He dialed Frank’s
number and was surprised when Frank picked up.
“What, Ry?”
“Uh,” Ryan fumbled to say. “Where, where are you?”
Gerard looked to Ryan with a betrayed expression, probably wondering why Frank
had picked up only for Ryan. Ryan sent him a sincerely apologetic look before
tuning back into the conversation.
“Who the fuck cares where I am?”Frank spat.
“Everyone in this house?” Ryan suggested sarcastically. “Dude, get your fucking
ass back here. Gerard’s basically a zombie and Mikey’s wondering why you hate
him! I get that you have your own problems, but that doesn’t mean you get to
make things harder for everyone else!”
Frank hung up.
Ryan winced.
“Is he okay?” Gerard asked in a trembling whisper.
Ryan bit his lip and nodded. “Angry as ever.”
“Fuck,” Gerard sobbed. The laptop slipped from his lap and Gerard started
shaking worse. Ryan fumbled in panic before grabbing the nearest blanket and
throwing it over their heads. There was familiar, white darkness from the white
cotton blanket. Ryan almost thought he was hiding Gerard in his wings. In the
warming light, Ryan wrapped his arms around Gerard and hushed him softly,
running his fingers through his oily hair until Gerard stopped shaking.
“It’ll be okay,” Ryan promised. “He’ll come back and it’ll be okay. Don’t
propose if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” Gerard choked out, still shaking. “I do, I wanna marry him so bad,
Ryan. I’m just scared that I’ll be no good. That it’ll end ugly. That we’ll get
divorced, or worse. I want it, Ry, but the “what ifs” are going to kill me.”
“Then stop asking what if,” Ryan replied. “And just say yes.”
Gerard whimpered and nodded before crawling out of the blanket and going for
his laptop. “I’m gonna buy it,” he said. “I’m gonna propose. Help me, Ry? I
gotta make it special. I’ve made him wait so long, I’ve got to make it good.”
“We can plan that today,” Ryan said softly. “The ring won’t be here for a
while.”
“I’m getting it overnight-ed,” Gerard said. When Ryan sent him a look, he
shrugged and explained, “it’s only sixty more bucks.”
“Only sixty more bucks,” Ryan repeated with a scoff.
“Frank’s worth a million more,” he said.
Ryan watched him for a moment. “You really gonna do this?”
Gerard nodded.
Ryan smiled again. “Good. You can do this.”
“Flowers,” Gerard thought aloud. “Right? Or should it be something else?
Something more clever. It should probably be a lot more clever.”
“When he gets back, offer him a drink,” Ryan said softly. “Just something
small, maybe a beer. Have the ring inside. Tell him some bullshit thing, like
that he has to shake it a bit before drinking it because it tells you if it’s
bad or whatever. A total lie. He’ll hear it, ask him what it is, he’ll pour out
the drink and find the ring.”
Gerard’s eyes went wide. “That’s amazing!” he gushed. “I wanna do that! Can I
do that?”
“I’m suggesting you do,” Ryan said with an amused smile.
“I’m gonna do that,” Gerard breathed. “I’m gonna propose to Frankie.”
Gerard turned to grin at Ryan, eyes alight with excitement. “I’m gonna propose
to Frankie!”
Ryan grinned back and nudged him. “He wants your name.”
Gerard’s expression became even more exhilarated.
“Frank Way,” he breathed reverently. “Frank Way.”
. . .
“Gerard’s gonna propose to Frank tomorrow night,” Ryan told Brendon because he
wanted to fill the silence. It felt almost normal to tell Brendon about his
life. He didn’t want to make the boy feel left out, even if Ryan knew it didn’t
matter to Brendon. It just helped himself feel better. “He’s super nervous, and
I think it’s because he’s secretly terrified that Frank won’t even show up. I
don’t know if Frank’s gonna show up. He’s apparently been staying with a work
friend, some guy named Bob.
“I’m kinda scared that Frank will say no,” he admitted to the dark. “I’m scared
he’ll think Gerard’s only proposing because Gerard wants Frank back, not
because he wants to get married. I was kinda worried about that for a second,
too. But Gee’s a pretty private guy and he can be really good at keeping
secrets. I’ll bet he’s been so tightlipped about this for so long that he’s
forgotten who the people he can trust to tell these things even are.
“And I’m scared Gerard will get cold feet,” he sighed. “Gee’s the king of
anxiety and overthinking. He could talk himself out of the benefits of
breathing if he tried. Probably some convoluted idea about oxygen being the
slowest acting poison on the human body and that we’d be immortal if we didn't
have to breathe and take in the poison to make our body function and use the
air around us as we’ve been forced to evolve to do through the eons.”
Ryan paused. That actually made way too much sense.
“Why do you love me?” Brendon asked from across the room.
“Because you’re special to me,” Ryan responded without hesitation. He’d
probably gone over all the reasons he loved Brendon about a million times. “You
have a nice smile and you’re a genuinely good person, despite the shitty
circumstances. The way you trusted me for all those years kinda made me feel
like I had a purpose in the world, and I’d love to be that for you. You’re
smart and kind and you’re just a good kid. You’ve got a bright future ahead of
you.”
Brendon was playing with the hem of his shirt. “My big sister says you’re gonna
rape me.”
Ryan felt like he couldn’t breathe because he was gonna throw up.
“She says there’s a boy in her head,” Brendon kept saying. “And he wants to do
bad things with her. Mom and dad things. She says she’s got to fight him off
every night and mom and dad praise her and say she’s one of god’s favorite
soldiers.” Brendon looked up at Ryan with sad eyes. “I-I don’t want to fight
you off.”
“I thought I’m not real?” Ryan asked because that was the only thought his mind
could form.
Brendon shrugged. He didn’t answer. He probably couldn’t answer.
Ryan sighed. “I’m whatever you need me to be,” he told Brendon softly. “And I
love you.”
Brendon nodded and went back to picking at the hem of his shirt.
. . .
“I’m nervous,” Josh told Ryan over coffee the next morning. Josh had texted
him, asking to see him. Ryan knew that the poor guy had to have some sort of
lingering (yet completely unfounded) shame for the confession over the phone.
Ryan had seen it in his eyes when he’d spotted Josh at the table.
“You know you have absolutely no reason to be,” Ryan assured him softly,
reaching across to nudge Josh’s hand, gently grazing Josh’s palm with his own
knuckles. “I get it, Josh. I mean, not really. I have no idea what that’s like.
But you shouldn’t feel any sort of mortification or anything like that.”
“I’d promised myself I wasn’t gonna tell people,” the other man admitted with a
chagrined smile. “I didn’t want to come off as someone looking for pity.”
“Josh…” Ryan sighed. He trailed off, unable to think of what he could say next.
Ryan shook his head, staring at the table between them. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Josh shrugged. “Can’t complain,” he mumbled. “At least I got to see her before
she was gone.”
Ryan felt sick again.
“She’s beautiful,” Josh continued, sniffling and smiling, somehow. “Her name is
Debby. I called her all sorts of lame confectionary names because she’s a
sweetheart named fucking Debby, how am I supposed to pass that up?” Josh picked
up his coffee and pretended to drink it as his crying became more
uncontrollable. He was trying to help himself calm down. Ryan sat back and
waited patiently, knowing Josh had to get this out. He wouldn’t have asked to
see Ryan otherwise.
“Can you explain it, Ryan?” Josh asked after taking in a long, shaky breath.
“Can you explain why the good people die? It’s, it’s not fair. I hate it. She
was a good person, Ryan! She did community service every Wednesday and Friday!
She adopted a shelter dog and she once sat on the porch of a landmark house for
three days to keep the city from knocking it down! She was a good person and
the world fucking killed her! A drunk driver took her off the road and she died
in some fucking ditch!”
Ryan shuddered and ducked his head, this time just holding Josh’s hand.
“She was bleeding,” Josh whimpered, his hands shaking. “She lied there in my
arms and wasted all of her energy on just talking to me.” He laughed bitterly,
tugging at his hair. “She should’ve saved her breath. She would’ve lived if she
had.”
“She wanted to spend her last moments with you,” Ryan murmured. “I’m so sorry,
Josh.”
Josh shook his head, wiping his eyes. He pulled one hand up to hold his head up
with the elbow braced on the table. Ryan watched as his whole body began to
tremble with smothered emotion.
“She’s in a better place,” Ryan said, even though he didn’t believe in god.
Josh laughed aggrievedly. “One day, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna go up there and
I’m gonna meet whichever deity of whatever religious faction that won the
lottery and he’s gonna ask, “how was heaven”?” Josh smiled sadly up at Ryan.
“This is probably the best it’s gonna get for any of us. And she’s already
gone.
“It’s gonna be fucking awful,” Josh breathed, running a hand over his face.
“It’s gonna be awful, you know? Living life and walking through all those
doors, knowing that she’ll never be behind any of them. I won’t ever hold her
in my arms or make love to her in the middle of the day. I won’t see her walk
down the aisle and I’ll never raise kids with her. I’ll never wake up next to
her and tickle her awake like I’ve always wanted to. I’ve lost the future I’ve
been dreaming about to a guy who had one too many drinks.”
“You’re gonna stay?” Ryan asked softly.
Josh looked to him and nodded. “It’s gonna hurt,” he mumbled. “But I wanna see
Tyler and Jenna get married. And I wanna meet their kids and I wanna see those
awesome rocks in Utah. I wanna go to a beach in California. I wanna see if the
Star Wars movies are gonna be any good, all of them, even if the one before is
shit.” Josh smiled brokenly. “I wish I could’ve done all of that with her. But
now, I’ll just have to do it for her. Just gotta find a way to get through it.”
He shrugged.
“I am the parent and you are the child, so take the pill,” Ryan murmured.
“What does that mean?” Josh asked.
Ryan shrugged. “One of my professors said it to us,” he explained. “He said it
was something he had to tell himself when he was diagnosed with Severe
Depression in his late twenties after he tried to jump off a bridge to die one
night when he was drinking with friends. He said that the child in himself
wanted to believe that everything was okay, that he was normal, that he didn’t
need the pills. But the adult in him knew that he had to take the pills. So he
told himself that exact phrase every day. He still does. But he knows he’d be
dead without it.”
Josh nodded. “I kinda like it,” he mumbled. “But I don’t want pills. I can do
this without the meds. I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.”
Ryan smiled sadly. “Count me in,” he said.
Josh perked up minutely. “Really?”
Ryan nodded. “You’ll get by with a little help from your friends. And me.”
Josh grinned and arched a brow.
Ryan frowned, then faltered. “I, I mean, I am your friend. I part of those
friends. I’m not some random addition with no emotional connection to you.
Friendship, yeah. Friendship and all that jazz, sorry.”
Josh giggled and reached across the table to nudge Ryan’s shoulder playfully.
“Friends?”
Ryan nodded, smiling back. “Friends.”
. . .
“He’s in the living room,” Gerard choked out, looking to Ryan with wide eyes
with a can of beer in one hand and the ring in the other. “He won’t even look
at me, Ryan. He won’t talk to me. He hasn’t said a word. He’s just asked where
you are.”
“Was he staying with that Bob guy?” Ryan asked as he took off his jacket.
Gerard nodded, looking demolished and exhausted. “He, he was with the guy the
whole time. What if they’re best friends? What if they made out? Oh god, Ryan,
what if they had sex? What if Frank had sex with Bob?”
“Dude, woah,” Ryan said, waving a hand in the air. “I’m pretty sure you and
Frank have done so many crazy things in bed that he can’t get it up for anyone
but you. You guys have to be the fucking kinkiest shits ever and I honestly
don’t think he’d really want anyone else, Gerard. I don’t think Frank wants
anyone but you. He never showed any sign of wanting anyone else. He loves you,
Gee. Unconditionally. He’s just hurt right now, okay? Do what we’ve planned and
I promise you that things will work out.”
Gerard whimpered and nodded.
Ryan smiled and took the beer, opening the can. He held it out for Gerard to
squeeze the ring inside. Gerard slipped the ring inside and Ryan shook the can.
It was faint, but you could hear the ring rattling around inside. Ryan grinned
and handed the beer back to Gerard. But Gerard shook his head.
“I want you to do it,” he said. “I don’t think Frank will take a beer from me.”
Ryan just shrugged and grabbed another beer for himself, opening it so Frank
wouldn’t think twice. “You have to sit on the couch with me and him.”
Gerard looked nervous, but nodded his agreement.
Ryan grinned and nudged Gerard before pulling him into the living room.
Frank looked up and then looked away just as quickly. Ryan dropped onto the
couch beside Frank and pulled Gerard down next to him. Ryan handed Frank the
beer, then got up. Gerard watched him go and let out this little noise of
anxiousness. Ryan just waved him off.
“What is this?” Frank growled, looking upset.
“Beer,” Ryan replied steadily, leaning against the far wall.
Frank scowled and tilted it back, taking a long swig. When he set it down,
things seemed okay at first. But then this weird, pained expression came over
Frank’s face. He gagged, but it didn’t help. Frank started to lurch forward and
back, scrabbling and pointing at his throat with wide eyes, steadily growing
redder.
Ryan paled when he realized Frank was choking on the engagement ring.
Frank started to cough, smacking his hand on the coffee table, before
eventually hacking up the ring onto the table. He sat back and coughed
raggedly, slowly recovering. Then he looked at what he’d been choking on. He
picked it up and stared.
“Is this for real?” Frank asked.
Gerard whimpered and nodded, trembling badly.

“I almost choked to death on your engagement ring?”
Gerard nodded again.
Frank began to giggle like a maniac. “This is the most Gerard Way proposal
ever,” he said between the giggles, looking up at Gerard and shaking his head.
“Oh my god,” he laughed. 
“This is the greatest thing ever! This is awesome.”
“Is, is that a yes?” Gerard asked.
“Fuck yeah it’s a yes!” Frank exclaimed. “Jesus, look at this thing?” He turned
the ring over in his hand, examining it. “God, what is this? Steel or
something? Is that an inscription?” His jaw fell open in shock. ““To the end,””
he read aloud. “Jesus, Gee… This is beautiful. I mean, it’s weird to inscribe
an engagement right, but jesus, I don’t mind.”
“You said yes?” Gerard ventured, still visibly nervous. “For real?”
Frank grinned up at Gerard before standing and kissing him languidly.
Ryan smirked and got up to leave them alone.
. . .
“Frank said yes,” Ryan told Brendon that night. He’d been stubborn the whole
time, just talking and talking and talking until his mouth was dry. It didn’t
stop him and Brendon didn’t stop him and Ryan felt like he could talk forever.
“Gerard took my idea and put the ring in the beer and Frank almost died. But he
said yes, so that was great.”
Brendon was watching Ryan with a disinterested expression. It didn’t hurt as
much as the usual contempt.
“I think what I’m most excited for is seeing Pete,” Ryan admitted. “I love the
guy, I really do. I miss him a lot. Me and Mikey miss him a lot. We miss out
Pete, with his dumb jokes and his goofy smile. And his energy. God, he was the
energizer bunny from hell. He could make you think twice about anything, even
your own name.”
“Thought he abandoned you,” Brendon mumbled.
Ryan perked up when he heard his voice. “Uh, I don’t know, really,” he said,
even though he had a pretty good idea. “I think he just had to focus on his
music, you know? He met these guys, Andy and Joe? Joe went to my college and
Pete met him in some existential philosophy course. Andy was friends with Joe’s
soulmate, a girl who’s name starts with a “K,” I don’t know. Patrick sings his
heart out in everything and they’re having the most fun I’ve ever seen them to
have.”
“He shouldn’t have left you,” Brendon mumbled. Ryan was tempted to press,
because he was pretty sure Brendon wouldn’t be asking him these questions if he
truly believed Ryan didn’t exist. But Ryan also didn’t want to scare Brendon
away.
“Life is hard, Brendon,” he said instead. “You only think it’s easy when you’re
a kid, and that’s because your view of the world goes as far as the nearest
playground, and that’s it. When you grow up and you see the world for what it
is, you realize you’re going to have to make sacrifices and even hurt some
people. Just because you don’t want to hurt them doesn’t mean there’s any other
way.”
Brendon bit his lip and reached down to trace patterns into the floor. “In my
world, people hurt me,” he mumbled. “They don’t care that they hurt me. They
just want me to tell them about why I deserve it.”
“But you don’t deserve it,” Ryan said. “You’re just a kid. The people in your
house are evil.”
Brendon scowled at him.”Those people are my family!” he shouted, becoming angry
faster than Ryan could blink. “They’re my family and they will love me! They’re
gonna love me and when they do, I’m gonna be part of their family!”
“But you are their family,” Ryan whimpered. “And they’re hurting you.”
“Shut up!” Brendon snapped. “Shut up! Or I’ll hurt you again!”
Ryan shuddered and shrunk away, wondering when he started to fear his soulmate.
. . .
“Dude, wait, he did what?” Travis asked the next day.
“He’s, uh…” Ryan faltered and just shook his head. He didn’t have words for
what he was scared to say.
“You know, dreaming can be a huge stress on the submissive party,” Travis told
him in a voice that was much gentler than Ryan had ever heard coming from him.
“And you’re the submissive. Not in that weird sexual way that has been
popularized by some shitty novels, but in the sense that when Brendon falls
asleep, you fall asleep, but not vice versa. You’re tied into his head, and
that’s it.”
“Is that normal?” Ryan asked.
“Depends.” Travis shrugged, eating Indian this time. “It’s kinda everywhere on
the spectrum, you know? Sometimes the dreaming switches between heads, other
times it appears that there’s no submissive or dominant side, though we can’t
prove that theory because we can never really see the rooms.”
“And rooms are the key to all of this?” Ryan pressed.
“Absolutely. You can tell who’s dominating by the room you dream in. Brendon’s
picturing this sort of cell-like place, right? Like a dungeon. It’s probably
reflective of a room he spends, or spent, his time in. If you were the dominant
dreamer, you'd be in a room very familiar to you as well.”
“So the room is a real place in his life,” Ryan sighed. “I hope to god he isn’t
put in there anymore. It’s cold. It isn’t healthy, he could get sick.”
“Has he ever gotten sick before?” Travis asked.
Ryan frowned. “Uh, I’m not actually sure,” he admitted. “He hasn’t told me
anything since he burnt the wings away. Not about himself or his life, really.
Just that I need to back off and let him convince his parents to love him and
make him part of the family.”
“Jesus,” Travis breathed. “Sounds like the makings of a horror movie. Or just a
Scream movie. Scream Five, the fall of Brendon or whatever. I remember this
huge quote that I’d memorized from the first one.”
“What was it?” Ryan asked.
Travis bit his lip, obviously thinking, before reciting, “her mother’s death
leaves her disturbed and hostile in a cruel and inhumane world. She’s
delusional, “where’s god?” et cetera, completely suicidal. One day she snaps
and she wants to kill herself but she realizes that teen suicide is out this
year and homicide is a much healthier, therapeutic expression.”
Ryan grimaced. “That’s… that’s dark.”
“I like a line from the sequel, too,” Travis added. “Nothing like a funeral to
bring the family together.”
“It’s fucked up,” Ryan said. “You know that, right? Especially about that shit
with suicide. There’s not an or off season for something that horrible. The
romanticism of the topic of suicide is, unfortunately, encouraged by a very
diverse group of people, such as those suffering from severe depression and
suicidal thoughts, and even those to attempt suicide. Suicide isn’t a fashion
statement or a phase or a clique you’re trying to fit in with. It’s a horrible
moment of emotional and mental instability and hopelessness. It’s not a fad.”
“You could argue that there are those who would disagree,” Travis said. “I
mean, I’ve done my surveys. Some high schoolers would desire mental
instability, and others would even brag if they had it. I met a girl who would
fuck up over and over on purpose and she’d blame it on being bipolar.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the bipolarism?” Ryan pressed.
“You don’t bully a boy into the hospital from bipolarism,” Travis said. “And
even if she did, it’s not an excuse. You don’t push a boy down two flights of
stairs just because you have manic episodes.”
Ryan grimaced again and nodded. That was inexcusable.
“I’ve seen kids make a peer’s suicide an art project,” Travis continued.
“They’d say the person died for their inspiration. The kids are fucked up,
Ryan. They’ve always been fucked up. We’re just finally becoming more aware of
it.”
“Sure it’s not just all the cell phones?” Ryan asked dryly.
Travis smirked and shrugged. “I don’t look for the why,” he said. “I look for
the how and what it could do to our heads. I specialize in the strength of
lucid dreaming and soulmate dreaming. Nightmares and soulmate dreaming. Sex
dreams and soulmate dreaming. I study how there could be two separate parts of
the brain that create different types of dreaming.”
“Aren’t different areas stimulated during different dreams?” Ryan asked.
“Yes,” Travis affirmed. “But it’s different when it’s with soulmates. There’s
gotta be something else going on in the brain, you know? There’s got to be a
special place it the brain primarily for these connections, and yet we can’t
fucking find it! We know what the brain does in every place, and yet we can’t
explain these dreams.” He was laughing, sitting back in his chair. “It’s
fucking hell! Knowing there has to be some sort of physical explanation when
there’s fucking nothing to prove so!”
Ryan smirked and sat back, shaking his head. “It’s gotta be frustrating, huh?
Wanna bang your head against the wall? Maybe punch yourself in the face?”
“You don’t even know how crazy everyone with me has been driving themselves,”
Travis groaned. “We’ve been looking for years, you know? I’ve only be here for
two of them, but we can’t find anything! It’s becoming another lame attempt to
prove god, like the Fibonacci sequence.”
“What’s wrong with there being a god?” Ryan asked with a sigh, somewhat tired
of this conversation.
“Because if there is a god, then I’ve got to punch him in the dick,” Travis
huffed. “If there is a god, he’s done a lot of evil shit. He’s let horrible
people get away with even more horrible things and he’s let good people die a
lot sooner.”
Ryan couldn't argue on that, especially in light of Josh’s loss.
“I don’t want there to be a god, so we can punish the people who do evil things
without worrying about divine morality and hoping that some god will punish
them more once they die.”
“That’s pretty straight forward,” Ryan observed evenly.
“And it’s the truth,” Travis said.
Ryan nodded. “Gotta agree with you there.”
. . .
“I’m fucking nervous,” Mikey mumbled, standing in the crowd next to Ryan. The
venue was sold out, and it was a sizable venue at that, able to hold a little
upwards of a thousand, probably a hundred more in the balcony. There was an
opening band that had already played, and Ryan thought they were pretty good.
But he was just as badly anxious as Mikey. Fall Out Boy was going to be onstage
in just ten minutes and it would be the first time Ryan had seen Pete in nearly
two years. He wasn’t sure if either of them were ready.
“What if he recognizes us out here?” Mikey asked. His brain had been moving a
mile a minute this past hour or so, and his lips were barely keeping up. “What
if he calls us out? What if he gets pissed? What if he has us kicked out of the
concert? What if we don’t see him after the show? What if he recognizes us
after the show?” Mikey suddenly looked very distressed. “What if he doesn’t
recognize us?”
“It’ll be okay,” Ryan soothed him, reaching out an arm to put around Mikey’s
neck.”These is Pete we’re talking about. Though he can be an ass, he is never
spiteful, and he definitely wouldn’t forget your face.”
“But what if he does?” Mikey whimpered. “What if he’s blocked it out or
something? What if he doesn’t remember any of us at all? Or what if he just
pretends that he doesn’t remember us? If he’s really mad at us and wants to us
to just fuck off. He could just ignore us and he’d walk away and turn his back
on us and never, ever speak to us again.”
Ryan grimaced and shrugged. “That’s not very different from right now.”
“Jesus,” Mikey breathed, bending over and bracing himself up with his hands on
his thighs. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Head between your knees, Mikey,” Ryan prodded softly. “It’s a Brontosaurus,
not a Triceratops.”
“What?” Mikey asked a bit groggily.
“Jurassic Park,” Ryan explained, rubbing Mikey’s back. “It’s gonna be okay.
Pete’s intrinsically a good person. You know that.”
“Even good people can do horrible things,” Mikey said.
Ryan frowned and meant to challenge Mikey’s idea, but the lights went down and
the crowd screamed feverishly, surging forward to get closer to the stage and
crushing the people who were already at barrier. At least three people had been
lifted from the pit already during the opening band. Ryan hoped that no one
still in there was claustrophobic.
A low note was playing in the background, full of bass and reverberation. Ryan
stood back after Mikey straightened again, and they both stared at the stage
with dread.
Figures walked out in the darkness and Ryan heard the click of drumsticks after
a few moments. He shut his eyes right before the floodlights came on, not
wanting to see. The crowd screamed as light danced behind his eyelids. He knew
that they were onstage and ready to play, the slow thrum of a baseline emerging
into Ryan’s auditory awareness. Mikey suddenly grabbed Ryan’s hand, squeezing
it so tightly that it hurt.
“It’s okay,” Ryan breathed to himself as the song started, Grand Theft Autumn,
a flourish of talent. “It’s okay,” he whispered to himself again. Then he
opened his eyes.
Ryan had never seen Pete smile like that his whole life.
He was alive, really, dancing around the stage even though it was the first
song. Pete had never known how to conserve energy, he just put everything he
was into whatever he was doing and never looked back. Ryan was jealous of him,
especially now. He had never seemed so free, so light and happy and Ryan knew
it was because Pete was doing what he loved. Ryan was jealous. He wanted to be
up there, onstage, with his friends, making music and playing it for others to
hear. Ryan wanted to be where Pete was. He wanted to be careless and happy and
enjoying the moment. Ryan wished he could be onstage, with his soulmate,
playing for the world.
But he couldn’t begrudge Pete. And Patrick looked just as happy. He’d lost
weight, big time, and was still as short, but slimmer and his face was full of
gorgeous angles. Ryan could tell Pete was proud of his boyfriend, especially
with the way he pranced to Patrick’s side and kissed his neck. Patrick flailed
a bit, and even flipped Pete off, but he was smiling. The crowd was eating it
up, surging like waves with the beat.
Mikey was slapping Ryan’s shoulder like he was trying to get his attention.
Ryan glanced to him and saw that Mikey was sporting the most captivated stare.
Ryan looked back to the stage, to someone who he wanted to still be his best
friend, and then stepped into the crowd, surrendering to the music he’d loved
since he heard it and the talent of someone he’d known for years.
. . .
Ryan knew he had lost a part of himself in that crowd that he’d never get back.
. . .
The show was over and Mikey and Ryan were at the back, waiting by the tour bus
with a group of about twenty to thirty other people. Mikey was breathless and
ruffled, sweating and smiling, and frankly looking like he’d just had the best
sex of his life. Ryan felt wrung out and left to dry, ragged. He felt like a
wasted scarecrow.
“That was fucking amazing,” Mikey almost moaned. “Jesus, Ry, they’re so fucking
good. Patrick’s so fucking good, did you hear him? He has some fucking pipes!
He can sing like, like, jesus! I don’t even know! He’s so good, Ryan, oh my
god.”
“He was good,” Ryan said, tired. His feet hurt and his spine felt like the
vertebrae were crushing down on each other and grinding. “Never knew he sounded
that good.”
“He was like a god,” Mikey said. “Jesus, I got their album, I can’t wait to sit
and listen to this stuff. I never knew Pete could write like that!”
“And Patrick,” Ryan said. “Patrick wrote Grand theft Autumn and Saturday. Pete
wrote Tell that Mick and Pros and Cons. Everything else was written by the both
of them.”
Mikey snorted. “Obsessed much?”
Ryan chose not to get angry about that.
A girl shrieked from somewhere near the front, and Ryan was reminded of how out
of place he and Mikey were. They were probably the oldest people attending the
concert, and definitely two of about ten boys, though he was totally
exaggerating. Then more girls were shrieking and Ryan looked to the right. His
heart stopped beating for a second and he saw Pete, who was grinning tiredly
and signing shirts and CDs and shoes and Ryan kinda wanted to turn around and
just run.
“There he is,” Mikey said, holding onto the hem of Ryan’s sleeve. “Don’t run.”
Ryan grimaced and hated that Mikey knew him that well. “He doesn’t want to see
me,” he said. “He doesn’t want me in any way, Mikey. He’d probably be happy if
I never showed my face to him ever again. He must want to forget me and never
remember me again.”
“Pete doesn’t hate people like you think he does,” Mikey sighed as Pete came
closer. “He doesn’t. He’s a good person, you’ve said this yourself about a
hundred times. Just wait here and we’ll see what happens, okay?”
Ryan swallowed heavily and ducked his head. He looked up after a moment and met
eyes with Pete. His blood ran cold.
“Ryan?” Pete called out, approaching him. He looked as scared as Ryan felt.
“Jesus, what’re you doing here?” Then Pete looked over and saw Mikey. His
expression went blank, and Ryan knew he hadn’t been anywhere near emotionally
prepared to handle this reunion. “Uh, Mikey,” he said. “Fuck, hey.” He looked
around. Patrick had gone past without a word, half asleep. Andy and Joe were
already in the bus.
Pete bit his lip, looking around. “We don’t have to leave for the next date
until tomorrow morning,” he said, coming to stand in front of Ryan and Mikey.
All the other fans around them are staring with looks of shock, and Ryan just
wanted to pretend this wasn't actually happening. “I mean, we were gonna leave
now and just hang out there in the morning, but I’ll talk to the driver and
we’ll hang out here longer.”
“Hang out?” Mikey repeated, looking a bit bemused. “Why?”
Pete shrugged and shuffled his feet, before mumbling, “because I miss you guys.
And I wanna catch up.”
Ryan and Mikey both stared, dumbfounded. This was the last thing they’d been
expecting Pete to say, hadn’t been expecting it at all. Then Pete sighed and
waved down a larger man with arms almost as big as his head.
“Zack,” Pete said. “These guys are two friends of mine. Any way we could maybe
slink off to that IHOP and hang out for a few hours? They won’t be able to
follow us to the next venue, and I know we’ve got the extra time.”
“Okie-dokie,” Zack said, waving another person down. “Want me to send Patrick
with you?”
Pete shook his head. “He’s tired. I’ll say goodnight, then leave.”
Zack murmured something and began to converse with a taller man Ryan didn’t
recognize. “You’ve got three hours,” Zack told Pete, resting a hand on his
shoulder. “I’m gonna hang out outside the restaurant. Give me a text if
something goes wrong.”
Pete nodded, then looked to Mikey and Ryan. “Come inside the bus while I say
goodbye to Patrick?”
. . .
When they got inside the IHOP, Ryan had quickly excused himself to the
bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and tried to breathe slowly, tried to
calm his rabbit heart that made him feel light headed and somewhat queasy.
Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t fallen asleep in over twenty hours was already
making him feel more strung out than usual. Now, with this unprecedented
reconciliation, he felt like he was going to keel over on his own if he didn’t
ground himself and breathe easy.
After splashing water in his face, Ryan made his way back to the booth. He
could see Mikey laughing at something Pete had said and felt a pang of jealousy
shoot through his chest. Ryan had never been very good at making Pete laugh. He
wasn’t very good at making anyone laugh, unless it was with dry sarcasm or by
mistake.
When Ryan went to sit back down in the booth, though, Mikey suddenly cleared
his throat rather harshly and stood before Ryan could sit, brushing past him.
“Think I’m gonna go get some of this sweat off,” was all he said, going to the
bathroom Ryan had just vacated. Ryan felt anxious, then sat in the booth,
sitting across from Pete. Pete had a cup of chocolate milk in front of him with
a straw sticking out and pointing towards himself. Ryan felt awkward and
unwanted, regardless of Pete’s confession to wanting to “catch up.”
“Hey, Ry,” Pete said softly, looking just as nervous Ryan.
Ryan sent him a ghost of a smile. “Hey.”
Pete took in a shaky breath. “I proposed to Patrick two months ago,” he told
Ryan. “And I want you to be my best man.”
Ryan blanked owlishly, blindsided. “…Why?” was the only question he could think
to ask.
Pete frowned and drank more of his chocolate milk. “Uh, well, we were in L.A.
for a few weeks,” Pete began. “And, uh… I ran into Spencer.”
Ryan tensed.
“So, you know, I grabbed him and we got lunch,” the other man continued. “And
it was nice, just talking. He told me about his own wedding and his kids,
showed me some pictures. Then I asked him how you were, and he just…” Pete
shrugged. “He said he hadn’t talked to you in two years.”
Ryan grimaced and nodded. “Something like that,” he mumbled.
“And I’m guessing it wasn’t by your own choice,” Pete added. “And at first, I
actually got pretty angry at him. I got mean and said some fucked up shit to
him and he got all defensive, and then he got sort of, I don’t know. Self
righteous? Asked me if I’d talked to you at all either. And I realized that I
couldn’t be pissed at him because I’d done the exact same thing. And then I
just felt really shitty.”
“Why’s that?” Ryan asked softly.
Pete looked up at him with a miserable expression. “I’d left you, telling
myself that it was okay for me to just abandon you entirely because you had
other people to take care of you. But when Spencer turned it on me, I suddenly
had this epiphany that if everyone told themselves that when they left you,
that someone else would be there for you, no one would be there. We’d pin it
all on someone else without realizing that there wasn’t anyone left.”
Ryan ducked his head. He’d had suspicions towards this very theory for years.
“I don’t wanna be someone who abandoned you,” Pete said. “I don’t. I don’t want
that on my conscious and I don’t want you to feel like I don’t care about you.
I left pretty selfishly, yeah, but you have to understand, Ry. You sounded like
you were dying.”
“So?” Ryan shot back. “You’d leave someone behind when they’re fucking dying?
Do you realize how messed up that is?”
“I don’t expect you to know,” Pete sighed. “I just want you to try and get it.
Everything I did for you was useless. Nothing I tried to do to help was working
and every night, you got worse and worse. The nightmares were killing you and
Brendon was sapping you dry of everything. Most days you couldn’t even match
your own socks. You couldn’t even type in a number on your cellphone.”
“So I essentially become emotionally disabled, and you took that as a cue to
jump ship,” Ryan said, getting a bit pissed. “Thanks, Pete. Such a stellar
example of loyalty. Who needs enemies when I have friends like these?”
Pete whimpered, looking hurt. “I’m sorry, Ry.”
Ryan could never keep thrashing out at Pete when he looked like that. Ryan
sighed and nodded, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “I’m sorry
too,” he said. He didn’t want to talk things to death, and Pete really was
sorry, Ryan could see it in his eyes. He just wanted his best friend back.
“I miss you,” Pete whimpered. “I really do.”
Ryan smiled again, but it was a bit more authentic. “Why don’t you and I order
some pancakes and see how much syrup we can “accidentally” spill on Mikey
before he throws a fit?”
Pete giggled and nodded eagerly, before steeling his expression when Mikey sat
back down.
“And that’s a yes,” Ryan cut in. “To the wedding. I’ll be there.”
Pete’s smile got even wider, and Ryan took pride in being the one to put it
there.
Chapter End Notes
     rich is just another name for dick
***** May the Bridge I Burn Light the Way (When Others Move On Without You)
*****
Chapter Summary
     disclaimer: we should all hope and look towards the day where man
     realizes that the sounds exiting his mouth are mostly complaints and
     a change occurs.
Chapter Notes
     so some people are dicks
Ryan started his course year classes and April came and went, Brendon turning
fourteen. Brendon had just stared a Ryan with poison in his eyes every night.
It was becoming exhausting and Ryan found it harder and harder to get through
the day, though waking up was a relief. Ryan hated that he was grateful to wake
up and get away from Brendon. But the constant loathing from Brendon was
wearing him thin. Ryan knew he just needed a break of some sort. He just didn’t
know what.
. . .
“Ever been to LA?” Mikey asked Ryan that morning. “Trick question, I know you
haven’t. Me and Ray have tickets, we’re leaving tonight, you’re coming with.”
Ryan arched a brow, looking up at Mikey from where he sat at the counter.
“Kinda short notice, huh?”
“It’s not,” Mikey said. “We bought the tickets three months ago and I forgot to
tell you.”
Ryan’s expression fell flat, because that was fucking typical. “Wow.”
Mikey giggled and nudged him. “Get packing!” he exclaimed, looking as excited
as a child. “We’re gonna leave at around four, flight leaves at five, we’ll get
there around nine. Aren’t you fucking pumped?!”
“Kinda blindsided,” he said. “You know I have classes, right?”
Mikey shrugged. “It’s Friday tomorrow, so that’s one class. We get back Monday
morning. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Ryan groaned and nodded. “I’ll go pack.”
“Fuck yeah,” Mikey giggled. “We got two beds so you wouldn’t have to be so
close to us when we have crazy, mind blowing sex. We’re gonna get you earplugs.
And a plastic sheet to cover.”
“You’re awful,” he sighed.
“You love me,” Mikey said. “Get packed.”
. . .
“I hate flying,” Ryan mumbled as they got off the plane. His ears were popping
and it was sweltering, his clothes sticking to every inch of his body like
paint. Same with his hair. He’d had a fucking wedgie for the past three hundred
miles and he was pretty sure Mikey had been using a fucking vibrator up his ass
the whole time, because he had not stopped squirming.
“I’m guessing that was the first time you’ve flown,” Ray said with a soft grin.
“Take a note from John McClane. Dig your toes into the carpet. It’ll help with
the jet lag.”
“Did you put a vibrator in Mikey?” Ryan asked dryly.
Ray blinked in surprise. “Uh, no?”
“Dude, I did not have my vibrator,” Mikey scoffed, coming up behind Ryan. “I
wouldn’t do that in public. And I wouldn’t bring my vibrator on a plane, that’s
fucking stupid. That thing cost, like, forty bucks. I wouldn’t risk it.”
“That’s awful,” Ryan deadpanned. “You’re awful. How the fuck could you do that
to us, Mikey? Does Ray even know?”
Ray was absolutely red.
Mikey looked at Ray and smirked at Ryan. “What do you think?”
“I think he knows,” Ryan said. “He knows better than he’d like.”
“You’re so full of it,” Mikey giggled. “You probably have a vibrator and, like,
a hundred dildos. You’re a horny bastard, I know you are. Jack off, what, five
times a day?”
Ryan grimaced and shook his head. “I haven’t gotten off in a month,” he
admitted, ashamed with himself.
Mikey stared at him in horror. “Why the hell not? That’s not healthy, Ry.”
“Because whenever I do get turned on, I hate myself,” he confessed in a dismal
tone.
“Why?” Mikey demanded, incredulous.
“Because the person turning me on if a fourteen year old boy,” Ryan growled.
Mikey and Ray both made squeamish expressions.
“What else am I supposed to do?” Ryan asked with a sigh. “I don’t even think of
awful things. Just the thought of holding him gets me. I hate myself for it.
I’d rather cut my dick off then get off thinking about Brendon. He’s just a
kid. I’m fucked either way.”
“Sorry I asked,” Mikey mumbled.
“Better be,” Ryan said. “Sorry I’m not the sex addict you are.”
Mikey scoffed and shoved Ryan playfully as they walked through the terminals,
trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a douche. LAX can kick you out. Just have
to scream the right words loud enough and you’ll be in airport prison, like
Walter Mitty. Dude, that’d be awesome! Now we just gotta find Tom from
eHarmony.”
“Todd,” Ryan corrected, ever the stickler.
Mikey rolled his eyes and shoved Ryan again. “Todd from eHarmony.”
“Thank you,” Ryan simpered.
“I’ve missed this place,” Ray said with a fond smile. “It’s amazing, you know?
Vibrant and alive. Not at all like Chicago.” He glanced to Ryan and winced. “No
offense.”
“Chicago has around eighteen murders for ever 100,000 citizens,” Ryan sighed.
“It’s the opposite of alive.”
“I’m sure LA is just as bad,” Ray tried to reason.
Ryan shook his head. “It’s six murders for every 100,000. LA is down seventeen
percent in their crime rates from 2010 to 2012.”
“When did this become a census?” Mikey asked. “How do you know all that shit?”
“Most murders are coupled with minor to severe emotional and mental disorders,”
he almost recited. “We are meant to learn the murder, rape, robbery, and
aggravated assault percentages for all of the main cities in all fifty states,
then in the major countries of each continent, usually about five per each,
five cities when it comes to Australia.”
Mikey and Ray both gaped. Ryan met their eyes and shrugged. “I have a demanding
major,” he said simply.
“Jesus,” Mikey breathed. “I’m changing my major.”
Ryan and Ray both looked to him in surprise as they walked out of the terminal
and headed to baggage claim.
“Since when?” Ray asked.
“Since I was on the plane,” Mikey replied with a shrug. “I’m done with theatre.
I wasn’t any good. I got horrible stage fright and the only thing that got me
past it was drinking, like, three beers before going onstage. That’s fine if
I’m playing music, you know? I’d play bass for the shows in the orchestra pit
when I was needed. But when I’m acting, I have to be sober. It just didn’t work
out.”
“You’re in your final year,” Ryan reminded him.
“I’m done,” Mikey said.
“What’re you gonna do?” Ray asked, smiling, though it was shaky. Ryan knew Ray
would support Mikey no matter what. But Ray also liked to have at least a
semblance of a plan.
“I’m gonna go to beauty school,” Mikey said. “I wanna work in a salon. Maybe
start my own salon. I wanna cut hair.”
Ryan giggled and shook his head.
Ray nudged Ryan. “That sounds good, Mikey,” Ray said, smiling a bit more
confidently. “Know a good beautician school in Chicago?”
“Paul Mitchell,” he said. “It’s on South Halsted. It’s really awesome, I think.
I heard about it from a friend and I’m gonna look into it. I think I’d have a
lot of fun with it. I like dying and bleaching and I can already cut my own
hair and Gee has taught me a lot from when he would cut my hair and his own
hair and our mom’s hair. He cuts all our hair.”
“We know,” Ryan said. “It’s our own hair, remember? I think I’d know who cuts
my hair. It’s not like I go sleep walking and wake up with a mohawk or a
toupee.”
Mikey snickered. “I wanna see that.”
“How are you gonna pay your tuition bills while attending this school?” Ray
asked, thinking practically.
Mikey shook his head. “It’s an institute,” he said. “So I don’t have to pay
them off yet. I have time, just like if I was still in a regular university.
And it’s a inexpensive school too, especially compared to college. I just have
tuition. That’s it. No other fees from the school.”
“That sounds really good,” Ray said, grinning.
Mikey shrugged. “It’s what I wanna do. I can’t go onstage.”
Ryan wanted to suggest Mikey learned about something offstage, like effects and
lighting, but Mikey wanted to learn how to cut hair. Ryan wasn’t going to steer
him from what he wanted, even if it was a shot in the dark. Mikey had never,
ever shown any sort of interest in hair whatsoever, and tended to complain
about needing to cut his own hair in the first place. Ryan really hoped Mikey
would think this through a bit more and for a longer amount of time, because
four hours in the air wasn’t enough time to mull over what you wanted to do
with your whole fucking future.
“I’ll be waving down a cab while you guys get the luggage,” Ray said.
“Shouldn’t you wait?” Ryan asked.
Ray smirked and shook his head. “I’ll be lucky if I find one before you guys
get out there. Trust me, it’s a nightmare to grab a cab, especially this late
on a Thursday night. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Ray kissed Mikey and waved as
he left, heading through the crowd to the exit doors. Ryan could feel the heat
even worse down here with the bags, knowing that he should’ve bought shorts
before making this trip. But that was a ridiculous regret, because Ryan hadn’t
known he was coming until the day of, so fuck you, Mikey Way, jesus.
“Excited?” Mikey asked, grinning as he and Ryan made their way to the conveyor
belt that had their baggage. “God, I miss this place. I love Chicago, don’t get
me wrong, but there’s something fucking magical about L.A., I just don’t know
what it is.”
“It’s probably the heat stroke,” Ryan grumbled. “You could’ve warned me about
the heat.”
Mikey arched a brow. “Dude, it’s Southern California in fucking August,” he
reminded Ryan. “I didn’t think I’d have to warn you. I thought common sense and
all your fancy murder knowledge would’ve told you that it was going to be hot.”
“Fancy murder knowledge?” Ryan repeated with a brow raised. “Did I hear that
right? How the hell does fancy murder knowledge tell me anything about the
weather?”
Mikey shrugged. “Heat strokes?”
Ryan made a noise of incredulousness and looked away.
“It makes sense,” Mikey tried to reason.
“If you were talking about the Phoenix area, yeah. Those people are fucking
crazy. I don’t know why you’d live in a place with 120 degree summers, even
with air conditioning.” Ryan shook his head. “I could never live there. Not
without some sort of, like, lake nearby. Or maybe a freezer. Or a fucking
mausoleum, those places are always cold.”
“Cold as your fucking heart,” Mikey joked.
Ryan shoved him playfully. “Not as cold as my bed.”
Mikey pouted. “That’s not funny,” he said. “That’s just sad. You’re making me
feel sad, Ryan, you can’t do that to me while we’re on vacation, especially in
L.A., don’t you know that? This is the place of wonder and it’s about an hour
from Disneyland, which doubles the wonder.”
“I think those are ours,” Ryan said to stop the conversation. He moved forward
to look at one of the duffle bags. Ryan lucked out, because it actually was his
own bag. Ryan grabbed it off the belt, then noticed Mikey and Ray’s suitcase
further down. He didn’t understand why they would share a suitcase, it just
sounded weird and probably was weird. Ryan was a fucking purist, he didn’t want
his toothbrush rubbing against some other dude’s underwear, even if he was
fucking the guy. Ryan grabbed Mikey and Ray’s bag, then went back to Mikey with
the duffle over his shoulder and the suitcase in his hand. “That wasn’t so
bad.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to get out of this crowd,” Mikey sighed.
Ryan looked around and blanched. It was like Woodstock or something.
“What are we gonna do?” Ryan asked.
Mikey shrugged. “Just wait,” he said. “It’ll thin out eventually. I hope. I
mean, how bad could it be? Just push gently, I’m sure we’ll get out of here
eventually.”
About ten minutes in, Ryan was frustrated beyond belief, and they still hadn’t
moved an inch from where they’d begun.
“I’m gonna call Ray,” Mikey said with a giggle. He was having fun while Ryan
was tired of stewing in this meat basket or some other analogy that described
Ryan’s anger about being stuck in a sea of people. “He’s not picking up,” Mikey
said after a moment, pulling his phone from his hear. Mikey bit his lip,
looking out into the crowd. “Follow me,” Mikey said, grabbing Ryan’s upper arm
and pulling him through all the people.
Ryan grimaced and was elbowed in the stomach at least three times. Mikey led
him to the bright artificial light that was streaming through the exit doors.
Finally, Ryan was pulled into empty space. He took in a long breath, relaxing.
Some woman started to screech at him and dumped a cup of soda and ice all over
Ryan’s head.
Mikey was laughing with Ray as Ray held open the door to a taxi.
“Welcome to Los Angeles, Ryan!” Mikey cheered.
Ryan scowled as the woman continued to scream at him and swore he was going to
put Nair in Mikey’s shampoo.
. . .
”Have you ever seen the ocean?” Ryan asked Brendon softly that night. He was
exhausted and dreaming was just as taxing as being awake. “I’m going to see it
tomorrow. Not like the ones on the east coast, that are all rocks and storm
clouds. I’m gonna see a California beach, like in the movies. I can’t think of
the last movie that took place in Chicago that didn’t have anything to do with
the mafia. Wait, wasn’t, like, Divergent in Chicago?”
“I don’t know,” Brendon spat with a sneer. “And I don’t care. Why are you even
talking to me? I didn’t say you could talk to me.”
Ryan bit his lip and tried not to be too discouraged. “I-I’ve always wanted to
live in L.A., you know? For a while, at least. It’s got that romantic appeal
and it’s where you gotta go to make your dreams come true. I don’t really have
the dreams that I did. Well, no, that’s not true. I still have the same dreams.
I just know that it’s not what I’m gonna get to do.”
“Because you’re a failure?” Brendon asked with a smug expression.
Ryan flinched. That one actually hurt a lot. “My dad would say that to me,” he
mumbled.
“He’s right,” Brendon said. “Dad’s are always right. You should’ve listened to
him. If you had, you wouldn’t be such a failure like you are today.”
Ryan couldn’t even find comfort in the fact that Brendon was insinuating Ryan
was real with this cruel attack. He felt like his heart was being flayed. Ryan
wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get through the next few years if this was
how Brendon would treat him and if Brendon would say these things to him.
“Do your friends know?” Brendon asked.
“Know what?”
“That you’re a failure,” Brendon answered. “Cause you should tell them that
you’re a failure so they can leave. You could get them hurt, or take them down
with you.”
“Please stop,” Ryan whimpered, knowing he was begging like the night he’d lost
his wings.
Brendon scowled harder. “Aren’t you supposed to be an adult?” he asked with a
snide look. “My dad says people like you should be working or studying. Are you
doing any of those? Are you smart? You don’t seem very smart.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Ryan pleaded weakly.
“You’re probably really stupid, aren’t you?” Brendon plowed on, looking
careless to the pain Ryan knew was showing in his expression. “Did you graduate
school? I don’t think you did. My brother just graduated and he’s going to go
to the church and go on his mission. He’s going to Mexico and then he’s going
to become a pastor. My family is really proud of him. One day, I’m going to go
on my mission. They’ll be proud of me too.”

“I don’t know why you want them to be proud of you,” Ryan choked out, just
barely speaking past the fucking fist sized lump in his throat. “They won’t
ever be proud of you. They hate you, Brendon. And it hurts, I know that. It
hurts to know the people you love hate you. I’m sorry.”
Brendon had something in his fist, and he threw it at Ryan as hard as he could.
Ryan’s head snapped back as pain shot down his spine. For a second, he couldn’t
move, not even his hands. Ryan had an episode of panic before finally having
the strength to lift himself from the ground. He looked to his left and saw a
rock that had never been in this room before. Then he lifted his hand to touch
the side of his head. He couldn’t feel a dent or anything, and when Ryan pulled
his hand away, there wasn’t any blood. But he knew he’d been hit.
“My dad says the best way to teach a stupid person a lesson is to make sure
they can’t dodge,” Brendon spat. “If I’m gonna have to listen to someone that
doesn’t exist every night, I wanna make sure you’re not stupid.”
“Jesus,” Ryan gasped. His head began to pound and there were flashing spots
creeping into his vision. “Jesus, fuck, Brendon… What the hell is wrong with
you?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Brendon shouted back. “You’re the one turning
your back on god and your duty to society! A stupid person is a worthless
person and worthless people need to be beat back into shape or gassed, for the
betterment of the people who are still working!”
“They fucking did this to you,” Ryan gasped, terrified. “They did this to you,
Brendon. You were such a sweet kid. They made you into this.”
“I’m what I’m supposed to be!” Brendon actually screamed. He picked up
something else in his hand and Ryan brought his arms up to shield his head. He
didn’t think he could take another hit. “My dad says that if you don’t go away,
I need to kill you myself!”
Ryan felt his whole being quake.
. . .
He opened his eyes to Mikey shaking him. Everything felt wrong, almost fake.
Ryan couldn’t tell which way was up. He felt disorientated and nauseous. He’d
never been woken by someone else, especially not when he was with Brendon. Ryan
whimpered and pushed at Mikey’s chest, pleading, “please stop moving me.”
“I’m not even touching you,” Mikey choked out. “Ryan, you’re bleeding.
Ryan barely managed to turn his head to his left and he saw bright red staining
the pillow in his peripherals. “Fuck,” he breathed. “A-are you sure you’re not
shaking me?”
“Neither of us are touching you, Ryan,” Ray’s soft voice said from the
darkness.
“We should take him to the hospital,” Mikey said.
“Please don’t,” Ryan asked.
“There’s a fucking hole in your head,” Mikey said. “It’s bad, Ryan. What
happened? Did you hit your head on the wall or something?”
“I’m so stupid,” Ryan whispered to himself.
“What happened, Ryan?” Ray asked, moving into Ryan’s shaky line of sight.
“Brendon really hates me,” he whimpered. “He wants me dead.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Mikey tried to reason. “Whatever happened wasn’t real, okay?
Brendon would never want you to be dead.”
“Brendon wants me dead,” Ryan insisted. “Let me up. I’m gonna puke.”
Someone put a trashcan bucket on his chest. Ray helped Ryan sit up and Ryan
spent a good few minutes hunched over the can. He breathed shallowly to try and
psych himself out of throwing up, but then his head suddenly swam with shadows
and Ryan heaved stomach acid into the can. Mikey rubbed his back and Ray kept
Ryan’s hair out of the way.
“Fuck,” Ryan gasped once it was over. “O-oh god…”
“It’s okay, Ry,” Mikey soothed. Ray got up and went to the bathroom. Ryan heard
the sink running, and then Ray came back into the room with a washcloth. “Think
you’re done?” Mikey asked.
Ryan shrugged, then nodded. “I hope so.”
Mikey nodded to Ray and they both gently lied Ryan back on the bed. Ray put the
cold washcloth on Ryan’s forehead while Mikey got up and went to his bag.
“Is it bad?” Ryan asked Ray in a tiny voice.
Ray grimaced. “We’re gonna have to see if you need stitches.”
“I mean the room.”
Ray hesitated. “… We’re gonna ahem to pay extra for the stained pillow, yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.
Ray waved him off. “More worried about you than however much they make us pay.”
“Brendon’s becoming volatile,” he explained weakly. “He’s constantly slipping
up and subconsciously affirming my theory that he does, at least inwardly,
believe I’m real. But he’s getting violent and cruel and I can tell that his
parents’ abuse will take a toll on him, and will be a deep seeded issue for
many years.” Ryan sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “He was throwing rocks
at me.”
“What?” Mikey demanded sharply. He came into Ryan’s view with gauze and
disinfectant. “He’s throwing fucking rocks at you? Sounds like a fucking serial
killer in the works, Ry. You should fucking drop him.”
“I can’t drop people,” Ryan said. “You can’t drop your soulmate.”
“Can’t you?” Mikey asked petulantly.
Ryan rolled his eyes, and it was worth the nausea. “You can’t, and I wouldn’t
drop Brendon even if I could. He’s my soulmate. That’s it, end of story.”
“Even if it kills you?” Mikey shot back.
Ryan and Ray both stared at him.
Mikey scoffed. “You were thinking it, Ray,” he accused. “First the kid burns
the wings off your body, then he throws rocks at you? Makes you bleed all over
the fucking sheets? You’re gonna eventually get hit so hard by him that it’ll
fuck up something permanent, and I’m terrified of that happening to you just
because you’re scared to leave him.”
“I don’t want to leave him,” Ryan told him softly. “I don’t, Mikey. I love
him.”
Mikey’s brow shot up. “Since when?”
Ryan scowled. “I’ve always loved him. Just been too scared to say it. I got the
balls to tell Brendon a while ago. And what does it matter to you? I’m not a
pedophile and I can’t help how old I am compared to Brendon. I’m not going to
do anything immoral, and not just because it is immoral to begin with, but
because I don’t have the urge.”
“That’s totally not what I mean,” Mikey said. “I just didn’t think you’d be
able to admit it anytime soon.”
Ryan smirked a bit, shaking his head gently. The nausea was still there, but
Mikey and Ray were helping him ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Brendon was okay or
not, and he was too hurt by Brendon’s words to be really torn up about it.
Brendon was probably happy that Ryan was gone, anyways.
“Are you hungry, Ryan?” Ray asked. “There’s a seven-eleven down the street.
I’ll grab us all something to munch on. Dried fruit or something, you know?
Milk, too. I think we all could use something in our stomachs, right? We’re
gonna do our best to have some fun tomorrow.”
“Be safe,” Mikey told Ray firmly.
Ray smiled and leaned in to kiss Mikey.
“I want that,” Ryan said without thinking.
Ray looked to Ryan, confused, and Mikey just snorted.
“Ray’s mine,” Mikey said with a smirk. “If you want him, you gotta wait in
line.”
“I think he means he wants a relationship,” Ray explained, rather hurriedly. He
got his coat and left with a call back to Mikey, saying, “help make him feel
better!” Ryan knew he was running away because he didn’t want to handle this.
“Not true,” Mikey said. “Ray knows I’m better at this. You listen to me.”
“Do I?” Ryan asked just to act as shitty as he felt. He wasn’t very surprised
that he’d said that aloud.
“You do,” Mikey huffed. “Jesus, Ryan, I didn't know you were still pining for
something. I thought you were over that. I thought you were ready to wait.”
“I’m lonely,” Ryan mumbled. “Isn’t that kinda stupid?”
“Not really. I mean, you’re around happy relationships almost twenty-four,
seven. You helped Gee propose. You see me and Ray, the perfect couple, making
out constantly. Pretty sure you were listening to us have sex one morning. You
saw Pete and Patrick live it up onstage, you’ve got all these people rubbing in
your face how happy they are with their soulmate, and you’re stuck, alone, with
a kid that hates you. It’s not stupid that you’re lonely. Not at all.”
“You’re such a great friend,” Ryan grumbled, sarcastic. “Thanks for listing
everything that’s making me feel fucked up and stupid.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that word in less than an hour,” Mikey
observed. “Can’t really remember you saying it for a while, until tonight. And
I know you, Ryan. You’re not about coincidences. What did Brendon say?”
Ryan was a bit shocked by how intuitive Mikey was being right now. “It’s
nothing,” he lied.
“Wow, Ryan, I can’t tell you how hard it is when people think I was born
yesterday,” Mikey drawled. “I’m not an idiot. And I’m not a pushover like my
brother can be. Stop bullshitting me and tell me what’s wrong, now.”
Ryan lifted his hands to pull the now-warm washcloth over his eyes. “Brendon
said that I’m stupid and that he needs to beat some sense into me to make me
not stupid.”
Mikey probably scowled. “That’s fucked up and you know it,” he spat, sounding
angry. Ryan could only see red light and shadows through the cloth. “You’re not
fucking stupid, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You’re going for a
fucking doctorate and you’re in grad school a year early because you’re just
that fucking smart.”
“I’m in grad school a year early because I doubled up on classes,” Ryan
interrupted. “Not because I’m anything exceptional.”
“Jesus, stop it,” Mikey huffed. “Don’t you see it? Already you’re resigning
yourself to all the mean shit Brendon’s been saying to you. Brendon’s becoming
a fucking bully, more and more like your father every night, minus the alcohol
and adding some violence, and I know you’ve been thinking it, but I also know
you’ve been too scared to admit it to yourself.”
“Brendon’s not my father,” Ryan said firmly.
“No,” Mikey amended. “But he will be his father.”
“You’re three words from being kicked,” Ryan grit out.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Ryan threw the washcloth aside and sat up quickly, meaning to tear into Mikey.
But the movement was too fast and Ryan’s head spun. He lost vision and vertigo
threatened to make him lose his stomach again. Ryan let out this pathetic noise
of distress before dropping to the side. He’d been too close to the edge, and
he toppled over, about to hit the ground. Mikey acted quickly and caught Ryan
by his side and shoulder just before Ryan’s face met the coarse carpet. Mikey
kept babbling these words Ryan couldn’t understand as he was lowered carefully
to the ground.
Ray came back into the room. “What happened?”
“I fucked up,” Ryan heard Mikey choke out in a voice thick with emotion. “His
eyes are open but he’s not seeing anything. I need your help.”
Ryan’d had no idea that his eyes were open. Everything was still black.
“He might have a mild concussion,” said Ray’s voice. It sounded like he was
getting closer. “Lie him with his feet elevated. We can’t let him fall asleep
for a while.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Mikey whimpered. Ryan tried to mouth the words, “I forgive
you,” but he couldn’t even move a finger, let alone form a sentence. Ryan could
only lie there and let the other two move him however they wanted. It almost
felt like falling asleep. Ryan zoned out and didn’t say a word for hours into
the morning.
. . .
“We’d been planning on going to the Hollywood sign,” Mikey told Ryan when he
finally started responding, around lunch the following morning. “Get a map and
maybe stalk some celebrities. I lived here for a while, so I’ve seen most of
this shit, but we kinda wanted to be tourists with you. Now, though, we’re just
gonna go to Venice Beach. Get you out in the sun, get some dinner. It’ll be
nice.”
. . .
“Cerveteca,” Ryan read slowly. “What is this?”
“Only, like, the best place to eat on Venice Beach,” Mikey told him with a
grin. “We’re gonna grab some food and then hang out by the ocean. You gotta see
it, Ry. Not like how you’ve been seeing it, when we drive by and shit and
you’re like, “oh look, blue stuff,” but getting up close, getting sand between
your toes, and getting fuck wet.”
“Sounds awesome,” Ryan said dryly. His head still hurt and there was gauze
wrapped around his head, so Ryan was wearing one of Mikey’s beanies to cover it
up. Sometimes, if he turned his head too fast, his balance would falter, but
for the most part, he was fine.
“This place is so good,” Mikey continued to gush. “Mexican, I think. I don’t
really know how to define it, but it taste fucking delicious. You’re gonna jizz
your pants.”
“You seem rather obsessed with a need for me to enjoy this,” Ryan grumbled.
“Perhaps you’re building up my expectations and anticipation only for me to be
let down. Doesn’t that sound kinda useless and backwards to you? What if it
doesn’t live up to the image you’ve created for me. You’ll feel like an idiot.”
“Oh my god, stop,” Mikey groaned. “We’re fucking eating here and that’s it.”
Ryan smirked and nudged Mikey with his shoulder before following Ray, who’d
already gone inside to get them a table. “I’m sure it’ll taste amazing,” Ryan
called back to Mikey as he left. “Top of the line, gourmet, possible-Mexican.”
“I hate you,” Mikey griped, smiling.
. . .
“You’re where?” Josh asked. It was kinda hard for Ryan to hear him, what with
all the screaming and laughing coming from the beach. Their dinner-lunch was
still going, but Mikey and Ray had gone off into their own conversation that
Ryan wasn’t included in, and then Josh had called, and Ryan had been making a
habit of picking up when it was Josh, no matter what. The poor guy was utterly
alone in the worst way possible and Ryan knew that Josh wouldn't call him if
Tyler was available.
“Venice Beach,” Ryan replied. “California. It’s nice, I think. It’s really
warm. When I first got off the plane, it was a fucking oven, but I think I’m
getting used to it.” Ryan took in a long breath and smiled to himself when he
smelled the ocean and the sun. “It’s kinda amazing here,” he continued to tell
Josh. “I wouldn’t mind moving here. I’ve heard it’s so fucking expensive, but
Pete and Patrick already live here, and they can afford it together. Maybe one
day I’ll be able to come here and stay for good.”
“That’d be cool,” Josh agreed.“Tyler and I moved to Chicago from Columbus.”
“There are 18 different cities in the world named Columbus,” Ryan informed him
with a smirk. “Sorry, Joshy, but you’re gonna have to be a little more specific
than that. For all I know, you could be from Kentucky, or North Dakota.”
“Columbus, Ohio, you dick,” Josh said with a giggle. “We gave you losers
Wendy’s and White Castle. We’ve got a replica of the Santa Maria in downtown
riverfront. The Ohio Theatre is a national historical landmark. “Traffic” and
“Silence of the Lambs” were filmed in Columbus. So was “Tango and Cash.” Our
Gay Pride Parade in June is one of the largest in the midwest. Ohio has more
culture than you do in your left ballsack.”
“You sound so proud,” Ryan replied sarcastically. “Why’d you ever leave?”
“Jenna lives in Chicago,” Josh replied. “Tyler’s basically my brother. I
couldn’t leave him. Or let him leave me. So I had to go with him. Debby lived
in Seattle, anyways. I would’ve had to leave Columbus sooner or later.”
“Are you gonna stay with Tyler now?” Ryan asked gently. “For good?”
“Yeah, Tyler is actually insisting on it. So is Jenna. It’s kinda nice, to know
they care. They’ve basically planned out the next ten years of their lives, and
I’m a part of it, through and through.” Ryan could hear that he was
smiling.“It’s fucking amazing. Ty’s always planned for me to be with him,
without or without Debby. He really is my best friend.”
“I’m glad for that,” Ryan said. “You deserve some good friends. I’m glad
they’re gonna take care of you. Don’t give up people who do that for you, okay?
They’re the most rare thing to find in the entire world.”
Josh giggled. “I gotta go, Ry,” he said.“Talk to you later?”
“Bye, Joshy,” Ryan hummed.
“Bye.”
. . .
Ryan dug his toes into the sand and smiled softly to himself. It felt warm and
comfortable. The sand just barely tickled the instep of his foot, and his heels
sunk down more and more as he stood still. Ryan began to just wiggle his toes
in the sand, watching the way they disappeared and reappeared, like a magic
trick of nature.
Then he was suddenly pulled down, dropping into the sand with Mikey on top of
him, who was laughing. Ryan flailed and tried to push him off, but he was
pinned by the other skinny man.
“You suck!” he shouted, grinning and kept trying to get Mikey off, now with his
knees now. “This isn’t fair! I’m temporarily handicapped, you can’t fucking pin
me! Ray! Ray, fuck, come help me! Your boyfriend is trying to get in my pants!”
Mikey was suddenly lifted off Ryan, rising in the air. Ray was grinning and
holding Mikey to his chest, with Mikey’s feet a good two feet off the ground.
Mikey was cackling and kicking and squirming in Ray’s arms, his eyes squinting
from how wide he was smiling. “You fucker!” Mikey giggled. “You can’t do this
to me! You can’t manhandle me without following through, you fucking tease,
jesus christ!”
Ryan got up and kicked sand at Mikey before darting away.
Mikey gave a shout and slid out of Ray’s arms before running after Ryan. He was
cackling again, sounding like a DC villain. Ryan glanced back and saw Ray
running after Mikey, and he was smiling too, his hair bouncing almost comically
as they ran.
Ryan turned back around just in time to be hit in the face with a volleyball.
Ryan hit the ground hard. He felt really sick again, and he knew it was bad, it
had to be bad. It had to be a really bad thing to be hit like he was the night
before, and hit again, just now. Ryan couldn’t even open his eyes for a moment,
could barely breathe. He really hoped his nose wasn’t broken.
Suddenly, the world burst into kaleidoscopes of white light and blue. The more
Ryan blinked, the more clear a shadow above him became. A few shadows,
actually. Ryan finally got the world to focus when he rubbed his eyes. He saw
two little girls, identical twins, hovering about him with Mikey. Ryan frowned.
“Who’zat?” he asked with a slur.
One of the girls giggled. Then another person peered over Ryan.
Ryan felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Spencer looked like he felt
the same way.
“Hey, Spence,” Ryan greeted automatically.
“Ryan,” Spencer said stiffly.
Ryan nodded and let his head fall back into the sand, passing out immediately.
. . .
“He had a really bad night,” Ryan heard Mikey’s voice say with panic. “Just,
Brendon did something horrible, and Ryan was bleeding a lot. See, under the
beanie? That’s a fucking bandage, Spence.”
“Please stop using that language in my house,” Spencer said harshly.
“… I’m sorry,” Mikey said after a moment of hesitation.
Ryan sighed and decided it was time to get up. He struggled to sit up and
realized, as he was doing so, that he was laid out on the couch. There was a
pillow under his neck and the room was relatively cool. Ryan opened his eyes
and smiled when he saw Ray. “Hey,” he greeted, reaching out to nudge Ray with
his foot.
Ray looked to him and grinned in stark relief. “Thank god,” he breathed.
“Ryan?”
Ryan looked to his right and saw Spencer. He was older. He had a beard, a few
laugh lines Ryan didn’t recognize. He’d lost a lot of weight. “You look good,”
Ryan murmured.
Spencer frowned. “Think you can get up?” he asked in an almost condescending
tone. “I’m having guests over soon. I need that couch. And if you throw up,
then I’m gonna have to ask you to front the bill for the cleaner.”
“Please, cut him some slack,” Mikey implored. “I told you, he got hit in the
head, badly.”
“By Brendon,” Spencer interrupted, sounding snide. “I know. Ryan’s in over his
head and Brendon’s become cruel psycho. I understood that years ago. I knew
this kid was going to be the death of Ryan. And when I realized that Ryan would
never leave that kid, I had to leave. For my own wellbeing.”
Spencer turned to Ryan and his expression was cold. “Get out of my house.”
Ryan just nodded. He stood from the couch on weak legs. Ray went to his side
and wrapped an arm around Ryan’s waist to help him.
“Bye, Spencer,” Ryan said softly. Mikey led them both outside and Ryan felt
like the door closing behind him was the door closing on his last chance to
ever have Spencer in his life again.
***** Looks like the Sea Is Trying to Kill Us Again, Guys *****
Chapter Summary
     every time i write a chapter, i ask myself, "can this get any worse?"
     then i realize that it can, and i dance for joy and write that worse
     shit down.
     (oh hey uh about 126 paragraphs down is a bit of a possible spoiler
     of Supernatural seasons 1-6 if you don't wanna read that)
“I can’t believe that fucking prick,” Mikey was cursing, pacing the hotel room.
It was two A.M. and Mikey hadn’t slept a wink. Neither had Ray. Ryan had tried,
but he just kept feeling horribly nauseous and dizzy every time he closed his
eyes. He didn’t want to think about what happened with Spencer right then. He
didn’t want to think about it, ever. Ryan planned on pretending that it had
never happened, that Spencer had just drifted away, disappearing peacefully
from Ryan’s life and that they were both content and better off without each
other. Ryan didn’t want to remember the way Spencer had said Ryan’s name like
it was a curse.
“How the fuck could he say that?” Mikey kept demanding. “How could he turn his
back on you, how could he treat you like that? You’re his fucking brother,
Ryan, you’re the most family he’ll ever have!”
“No, I’m not,” Ryan sighed. “Linda and the twins. Linda’s side of the family.
Spencer’s own parents. They’re all his and they all love him and I’m sure all
of them are much happier without me. I’ll bet his parents spoke about me with
him behind my back for years. They never really liked me. They didn’t want
Spencer to get hurt by my father.” Ryan rolled onto his side and hugged
himself, bringing his knees closer to his chest. “I’m a disease.”
Ray sat down behind Ryan and rubbed Ryan’s side with a gentle hand. “You’re not
a disease. You’re part of this family. I know it might not be as good as what
you had with Spencer, but I hope it’s enough. We love you, Ryan.”
“Mikey already abandoned me because my problems are too much,” Ryan said. “It’s
only a matter of time before he doesn’t come back. And then all of you will
leave with him.”
Ryan saw Mikey flinch with the accusation, and his chest clenched painfully,
knowing what he’d said was cruel, but he was too far gone with the depression
weighing down on his mind to apologize. “It’s not like Gee would let Mikey
leave,” he continued in a despondent tone. “Gee and Mikey are attached to the
hip. So when Mikey leaves, Gerard leaves. And you go with Mikey, and Frank goes
with Gerard.” He turned his face into the pillow, closing his eyes. “I’m going
to lose everyone.”
“Fuck,” Ryan heard Mikey choked out, sounding pained. “Ryan, I-I’m not going to
leave you, I promise. I need you to believe me, Ry. It was a moment of horrible
weakness and it was wrong of me. You needed someone and no one else was
stepping up. We’d all abandoned you and I felt like utter fucking shit for it.
I love you, Ryan. I’m not going to make that same mistake twice. I’m not going
to leave you like that. Not ever again.”
“Words, words, words,” Ryan mumbled. “It’s the thought that counts, and the
actions that make it true.”
“Ryan,” Ray sighed. “Stop. Mikey’s your friend, you know he’s not gonna do
that. The first time was a mistake. He’s not gonna do it again, you know he
means it.”
Ryan scooted away from Ray’s hand and pulled the blanket up and over his head.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” he heard Mikey whimper.
“Come on,” Ray murmured. Ryan heard the swish of moving fabric, then the creak
of the other bed. He hoped they were going to sleep. And he hoped he didn’t
fall asleep.
. . .
“You left,” Brendon said with a shaking voice, but an angry expression. “You
promised to never do that. You promised you wouldn’t leave me, but you just
did! You’re a liar. You’re the same as all of them!”
“I’m not real,” Ryan said, watching Brendon with an empty gaze. “I’m not real.
So I can’t make mistakes like that. I’m not real, so the promises don’t matter.
I’m not real, so I never made those promises in the first place.” He smiled and
it was broken. “I’m not real, Brendon. Stop talking about the things I do like
I am.”
Brendon took a step back, something flashing through his eyes that Ryan
couldn’t name. “You lied to me,” the boy continued to say, though his voice was
strained with some sort of emotion. “You lied to me. They always lie to me.”
“I’m sorry they do,” Ryan said. “You don’t deserve to be lied to. Not after
everything you’ve gone through.”
“And I don’t deserve you being a liar,” Brendon whimpered. His anger was
waning, Ryan could tell. But he preferred Brendon angry and upset than this
sort of broken. He looked like he had when he was ten, scared of the dark and
his own family. Ryan inched forward, reaching out with a gentle hand, hoping to
comfort him.
“No!” Brendon shouted, flinching away. “D-don’t touch me!”
Ryan pulled his hand back sharply, and nodded, looking away. “Sorry.”
Brendon nodded, scooting away from Ryan on his butt. “P-please don’t touch me,”
he asked. “I just, I’m not used to being touched.”
“I used to hold you all the time,” Ryan murmured. “I’d keep you in my arms.
You’d be safe there. With the wings. Everything was so much more beautiful when
your world is made of white. I just, I miss you.”
Brendon made a noise like a scoff and Ryan sighed.
“I mean it,” he told the boy. “I miss you, Brendon. I meant it when I told you
I loved you. And I’m pretty sure you meant it when you said that I was the
first person to ever say it to you. You mean a lot to me, Brendon. More than
you realize.”
“I don’t care,” Brendon said, but his voice wavered in a way that let Ryan know
he was lying. “Please, just, just go away. You’ll get me in trouble.”
“I never meant to make you hate me,” Ryan told him. “I love you, Brendon.”
“Shut up!” Brendon screamed, obviously panicked. “Shut up, shut up! Go away!”
Ryan nodded, moving back. He went to sit against the wall furthest from
Brendon. He held his hands in the air for a moment to show he meant no harm.
“I’m over here,” he told Brendon carefully. “I’m not going to touch you.”
Brendon nodded and sat near his wall too, crossing his arms and looking at his
feet. They didn’t say a word to each other for the rest of the night, but Ryan
didn’t wake up with a dent in his head and blood on the sheets, so that night
was definitely a success.
. . .
Ryan woke up before Ray and Mikey did, right at the starting hour of the free
breakfast. It started at six A.M. and Ryan slipped out of the hotel room to
grab Mikey and Ray breakfast as a form of apology. Ryan grabbed chocolate
covered strawberries, pancakes, waffles, a few bagels, watermelon and
cantaloupe, oranges, and even donuts. He went back up to the room with his
hands full and opened the door with some awesome balancing skills and his
ability to use a keycard and open a door with the same hand.
Mikey and Ray still weren’t awake and Ryan took that as ample time to lie out
the plates with fancy displays of the colors of the fruits, and then the
pancakes with syrup. He brewed a pot of coffee at the end of his preparations,
a vanilla hazelnut blend that he’d grabbed from the breakfast downstairs. It
smelled amazing in a matter of a minute and Ryan heard the moment Ray woke up
and smelled the coffee.
“Hey,” Ryan greeted softly.
Ray sat up and looked up him with a sort of sad, sleepy expression.
Ryan winced. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was being horrible to you both last
night. It’s inexcusable. It was cruel and childish and just awful, and I’m
sorry. I know I keep fucking up and I know I always apologize, but I just keep
on fucking up and hurting you guys and I’m sick of it and I’m sick of myself.”
“Don’t say that,” Ray sighed. “You’re a good guy. You just make a mistake every
now and again. It doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person. Not really. You’re a
good person who’s been given a lot more problems than anyone should.”
“Except that’s not it,” Ryan said. “People have been given a lot worse than I
have, and they’ve saved some face. I know this sounds like a dick thing to say,
but I need you guys to stop excusing me for the wrong things I do just because
some of my relationships are rocky and I don’t get a lot of sleep.”
Ray looked skeptical. “Your soulmate wants you dead and you’re calling that
rocky?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m sure there are people in worse situations.”
“That doesn’t make your situation any less important,” Ray told him gently.
“Look, I’m just asking you guys to hold me responsible,” he sighed. “I’m
shouldn’t get away with the way I treat you guys. I need to learn that it’s not
okay. Lashing out at all of you, who have put up with me and cared for me and
loved me and treated me like family for all these years. You do not deserve to
be treated the way that I’ve treated you.”
Ray shrugged.
“Please?” Ryan pressed. “I can’t keep hurting you.”
Ray shrugged, then nodded. “We’ll work on it with you.”
That was probably the best Ryan was going to get out of someone as passive
aggressive and gentle as Ray. “Good enough,” he said. “I got you breakfast.”
Ray looked to where Ryan was gesturing and smiled. “That looks nice,” he said.
“Consider it my apology for being a dick,” Ryan explained.
“You should be a dick more often,” Ray replied with a wink. He got up from the
bed and went to the coffee pot, letting out a small moan. “Smells amazing,” he
said. “What is this? This isn’t the normal black shit Gee has.”
“Vanilla hazelnut,” Ryan told him, grinning.
“Remind me to get a bag of this when we get back to Chicago.”
“What about Chicago?” Mikey asked in a sleepy voice, sitting up with his hair
everywhere. “Chi’go,” Mikey slurred. “Jesus. Is Gee okay? Di’ he hit a car or
somethin’?”
“Go back to sleep, baby,” Ray ordered gently with a loving smile. “Come back to
us when you can form full words.”
Mikey shook his head stubbornly and stood, shuffling towards the coffee pot in
instinct. He tried to make himself a cup, but he had the styrofoam cup upside
down. Ray shot forward and grabbed the pot from Mikey’s hand before he could
burn himself.
“Mikey lacks the most basic self preservation instincts,” Ryan observed lamely.
“Tell me about it,” Ray sighed, though he kissed Mikey’s temple with a patient
smile. “A fork in the toaster, seeing if the stovetop is still hot with his
hand, changing a car battery without turning off the car. He’s a beautiful
disaster waiting to happen.”
“No’ a disaster,” Mikey mumbled, leaning against Ray’s chest. “‘M a man…”
“Jesus,” Ryan snickered. “He’s exhausted. Poor kid.” Ryan went and poured Mikey
that coffee.
“We shou’ go to the boardwalk,” Mikey said under his breath. “Ride the ferris
wheel.”
“Ferris wheel?” Ryan repeated. “Sounds fun. I’d like to forget yesterday. I’m
sure seeing the ocean from a terrifying height is pretty mind wiping. None of
you are afraid of heights, right?”
Ray shrugged. “There’s been worse.”
Ryan smirked. “Let’s get some food in you and coffee in Mikey. We’ll find that
boardwalk and have some fun. As long as we stay as far from Venice beach as
possible and run at the sight of two twin girls, I’m happy.”
Ray grimaced and nodded.
Ryan nodded back, mood falling the more he tried to stop thinking about Spencer
and the family that Ryan was never going to be allowed to be a part of. It hurt
more than most things Ryan had to deal with, hurt more than some of the words
Brendon said to him. Spencer was the only real family he’d had; they’d been
together since they were five. The thought of never having Spencer in his life
ever again made him feel abandoned and broken and unwanted.
“Hey,” Mikey called out. “Stop.”
Ryan looked to him and frowned. “What?”
“Sto’ thinking about Spencer,” Mikey clarified. He looked a bit more alert, but
just barely. “Just stop it. Not worth it.”
Ryan smiled sadly and nodded. “Get something in your stomach,” he said. “I’m
gonna take a shower.”
. . .
In the bathroom, Ryan had a sort of existential crisis.
Staring at porcelain, looking down at his hands, he couldn’t figure himself
out. He couldn’t look at his reflection. He knew it was daytime, he’d watched
the sunrise, but it felt like night.
"In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning.”
Ryan shuddered and pressed his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the
artificial light. It was hurting his head and making him see splotches of light
that he couldn’t look around, like blind spots that took up fifty percent of
his vision. He took in a long, shaky breath, before pulling his hands away
again and looked to the sink.
He saw Mikey’s razor sitting beside the faucet.
Ryan knew that the Ways both shared of a dark past of self harm. He also knew
that Mikey was at least five years clean, and Gerard just as many. Both had
stopped around the time of meeting their soulmates in person, finding it more
important to keep their bodies clean and unmarked for their lovers. While Ryan
thought this was a superficial reason to end their self harm because it was so
easy to poke holes in the idea and rock the boat, he was happy they had any
reason at all, at the very least.
Ryan had never self harmed when he was a teenager. He’d felt enough pain from
the words his father said to him. He hadn’t seen any sense in hurting himself
physically as well. But now…
Ryan knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t, the reasons why self harm was so
messed up and important to address. Someone could easily slip up and cut too
deep. People often reported horrible shame and feelings of self deprecation
after self harming. The relief was only for a few moments, but the long term
trauma that came from dragging a blade across your own skin was damaging for
years and years, even if you got therapy.
But just the thought of having some sort of relief…
Ryan felt like he didn’t have the right to cut himself. Like he was supposed to
have grown out of it. Self harm was exclusively for teenagers, or that’s what
it felt like. Ryan had never heard of any cases of self harm with people out of
their second year of college. And since Ryan hadn’t done it in high school, he
had no right to start now. People only cared if you were young. Once you were a
legal adult, you weren’t allowed to have problems. That’s what it felt like.
Ryan reached out and picked up the razor. There were five blades inside the
head. Ryan didn’t know how to get them out. He figured he couldn’t just drag
the whole thing over his skin. It wouldn’t be guaranteed to mark his skin and
would probably be messier. Ryan didn’t know if he should cut his wrists or his
hips or his thighs. He figured it should be in a place he covered most of the
time, and somewhere that his clothes wouldn’t rub. He wondered if Brendon would
notice any marks, or if those physical things only Ryan was aware of wouldn’t
come over into the dream that was largely Brendon’s.
Ryan dropped the razor and stumbled away.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed, gasping, terrified. He’d almost…
Ryan turned to the shower and set it to cold, stepping in and freezing under
the spray. It helped with the sheer panic he was feeling. Ryan had promised
himself years ago that he’d never do that, if only to keep his friends happy.
He didn’t have enough problems to merit self harm.
. . .
“I haven’t been on a ferris wheel in so long,” Mikey said with a wide grin. “I
fucking love those things. Don’t ask me why, I have no clue. I just fucking
love them. The colors and the music they play. Looking out the window sucks,
yeah, but it’s so awesome up there.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Ray agreed. “As long as I’m not watching.”
Mikey snickered and nudged Ray with his elbow. “I’ll protect you,” he said.
“Keep my boyfriend safe.” Mikey walked ahead as Ray pulled back. Ryan looked up
at him and arched a brow.
“Can you keep a secret?” Ray whispered.
“Uh, yeah,” Ryan whispered back, wondering why they were whispering.
“At the shops,” Ray said. He then pulled a small, black velvet box from his
back pocket.
Ryan’s eyes went wide. Then he realized that he was at the age where all of his
friends would get married and settle down, and Ryan would still be studying. He
had been alone for a long time, and he was going to be alone for a lot longer.
“I just bought this,” Ray continued to whisper. “I’m not going to propose. Not
for a while. I’m going to need your help to make this perfect, okay?”
Ryan blinked and wondered when he’d started assuming such drastic things. Even
if Ray had been proposing today, it wasn’t like they were going to leave Ryan
behind. They had promised not to. Ryan took in a long breath and nodded. “I’ll
help.”
“Thanks,” Ray said with a wide smile. “It’s gonna be perfect. This ring is
perfect. And he’s perfect. So it’s gonna be perfect.”
Ryan nodded again. “Perfect.”
“Are you guys seeing this?!” Mikey called out.


Ryan and Ray both looked up. Ryan stared at the Santa Monica pier that he’d
seen in countless movies, but never in person. It was busy and loud and humid
as hell. There were children screaming with sticky hands and faces and there
were seagulls everywhere. Ryan watch one of them shit on a guy’s bald head.
“Oh my god,” Ryan said. “This is a shit hole.”
“What?” Mikey laughed. “Dude, you’re such a dick! This place is amazing!
There’s, like, people! And lights and games and shit. And there are people.”
“You’ve said people twice,” Ryan said. “That’s not very good for your
argument.”
“This place is kinda shitty,” Ray agreed with a chuckle. “But it’s a good
shitty. It’s fun if you’ve decided not to let all the creaky boards and stains
get to you. And the people are really amazing, you know? They’re vibrant and
unique. And you’ll see a ton of scene kids out in the open. I’ve never seen
them anywhere else.”
“Okay, you got me,” Ryan sighed. “I’ve never seen a scene kid in real life.
Just in photos on the internet and my old MySpace page.”
“I miss MySpace,” Mikey said. “I liked my shiny cursor. It was a unicorn horn.”
“I’m not surprised,” Ryan snorted.
“What was your layout?” Mikey asked with a smirk.
Ryan pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna answer that.”
“I’ll bet it was a gay man’s penis,” Mikey said.
“Oh my god,” Ryan scoffed. “It was the fucking yellow submarine! That’s it,
Mikey! Jesus, I’m not some big gay guy. I probably wouldn’t even like dick if
it weren’t for that fact that I’m kinda supposed to.”
“Has there ever been a case of someone being matched with a person of same
gender, but both people maintain being straight? Or just one?” Ray’s eyes were
alight with curiosity. Sometimes he was almost as inquisitive as Gerard.
Ryan shrugged. “Not really. I’m pretty sure that happens so often that no one
really feels a need to document it. Though it would be cool to study. To see if
they would get over their own inhibitions to be with the person they’re meant
to spend forever with. I’m surprised Hollywood hasn’t tried to make a movie
like that yet.”
“I’ll bet they have,” Mikey said. “It just sucked too much to gain any
attention.”
“That’s basically most movies these days,” Ray said. “I swear, they make
trailers to tell you a completely different story than what you’re actually
gonna see. Like that “Three Days to Kill” movie. I thought I was gonna get a
fast paced action movie. All I got was some feel good crap, family movie about
a dad fixing his relationship with his daughter. It was a huge disappointment.”
“I didn’t even see it,” Mikey hummed. “I had this feeling. This psychic
feeling. With black jack and hookers and pineapples.”
“He stayed in and marathoned Psych with me,” Ryan translated. “It was awful. We
didn’t leave the house for a good week, just stayed in and ate all the
pineapple dishes we could. Fell in love with Shawn and Gus.”
“Lassiter is my baby,” Mikey affirmed with a sage nod of his head.
“Too bad I missed that,” Ray chuckled. “I think I remember Mikey telling me
something about that. He sounded really happy. Something about needing a break
and loving the show and how pumped he was to be able to watch it with you.”
Ryan smirked and nudged Mikey. “That’s cute.”
Mikey scoffed and shoved Ryan to the side. “Dick.”
“Jerk,” Ryan shot back.
“We may have marathoned Supernatural too,” Mikey told Ray with a sheepish grin.
“And fought over which brother we would be if we ever decided we wanted to
emulate them. Then we realized both of us are way too skinny, so we’d decided
we’d be the brothers when they were younger. I’d be Dean.”
“Take Dean,” Ryan snorted. “I want Sam. Sam’s the best. Sam is the only reason
that show is so good.”
“Dean’s the main character!” Mikey shot back. “He’s the one with the baggage,
with all the responsibility! Without Dean, the show is a bust.”
“Dean gets all his issues from Sam,” Ryan argued. “Sam’s the one with the real
problems. First season, his girlfriend is killed like his mom and the demons
are saying it’s his fault, and he starts having the visions, which are
physically painful. Second season, Sam’s got the weight of one of the strongest
demons using him for a huge, end-of-the-world scheme. And then Sam dies. Then
Dean does this thing to save Sam, and yeah, that’s a Dean issue season. One of,
like, three. Then Sam is guilty and trying to get Dean back and he’s got the
addiction and just this need to be good enough. Season five, he’s got Hell on
his shoulders and he fucking sacrifices himself! Dean just throws a fit. And by
the way? Being the vessel for Lucifer is a thousand times worse than Michael,
because Lucifer is not scared to use horrible torture that Michael would never
use. I can go on.”
“I know,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got the biggest hard on for Sam
Winchester, king of hell and puppy dog eyes. It’s pathetic.”
“You wanna know what’s pathetic?” Ryan asked. “Dean’s pity party, woe-is-me
bullshit from season four to infinity. If anyone needs to get over themselves,
it’s Dean. All he does is cry and throw a fit.”
“You bite your tongue,” Mikey said with narrowed eyes.
“Make me,” Ryan challenged.
Mikey pursed his lips before reaching out and trying to grab Ryan’s jaw. Ryan
giggled and started to slap his hands away, having fun. Mikey let out a noise
of distress, stepping closer to Ryan and trying to distract him by tickling his
stomach so he could grab Ryan’s face, but Ryan stumbled away, laughing.
“Children, please,” Ray cut in with a wide smile. He stepped in front of Ryan
and reached out to tousle Mikey’s hair. “Don’t we wanna get to the pier? Maybe
have a little fun, right? Ride that ferris wheel. Eat cotton candy and win
ourselves some huge stuffed animals.”
Mikey stuck his tongue out at Ryan. Ryan smirked and tugged Mikey’s hair
playfully.
“I’m gonna kill Ryan,” Mikey said. “I’m gonna wrap some rope around his neck
and push him out of the trolley car when we’re at the top of the ferris wheel.
No one will suspect me.”
“Even though you’ll be holding the rope,” Ryan reminded him sarcastically. “And
you just confessed to pre-meditated murder, just now. I also think Ray’s too
good of a person to let this sort of thing slide by.”
“Nah,” Ray said. “I’d keep my mouth shut for Mikey.”

Ryan turned to him with a
wounded expression. “You’d let Mikey murder me? For real? You’re totally okay
with letting me die, as long as you get laid enough. That’s fucking horrible,
Ray. You’re a monster. You know you’re a monster, right? Because you are.”
Ray just chuckled and shook his head, going to the front booth to pay for
tickets to the Pacific Park. He handed Mikey and Ryan their tickets and pulled
them into the park, looking reminiscently peaceful. Ryan nudged Mikey because
Mikey was staring at Ray like he could seeing the galaxy in Ray’s smile. Mikey
saw Ryan’s knowing smirk and blushed before shoving him again playfully.
“What do you guys wanna do first?” Ray asked.
“I’ve been saying it all fucking day!” Mikey exclaimed with a stupid grin.
“Ferris wheel!”
. . .
Ryan had been separated from Ray and Mikey in the line. Mikey and Ray were put
with a nice couple that sounded like they were from the Netherlands, while Ryan
was in a trolley with four squabbling siblings from New Mexico. They were
shrieking and kicking and hitting each other. Ryan knew the parents were in the
trolley following this one. He kinda hated the parents for ditching these kids
with him.
Ryan stared out at the ocean, in all its nothing. He saw a faint outline
somewhere on the horizon and assumed it was a carrier or a trade ship or maybe
a cruise liner. He wondered what it would be like to live in a houseboat on the
ocean. He didn’t think he’d like it. He preferred dry land to come back to at
the end of the day, and got seasick if he ate too much before going out on the
waves. Maybe Lake Michigan was different from the actual ocean.
The ocean bled into pollution that bled into the sky. He couldn’t actually see
the solid horizon line he saw in photos. Ryan knew that most of the pollution
came from China. He also knew that Beijing probably had some of the worst air
in the world. So Ryan then knew that regardless of how his life was now, he was
lucky to be born where and when he had been. Ryan could spend his whole life
wanting something better. He was happier knowing what he avoided.
His trolley got to the bottom and Ray and Mikey were waiting at the exit, both
of them looking fairly guilty. “We could hear the kids from our own car,” Ray
explained. “They sounded awful. I didn’t know kids’ voices could reach that
high of a decibel.”
“I’m gonna go deaf early because of those brats,” Ryan griped. “Thank god I’m
with a dude. I’m never having kids. I don’t think I could handle all the
screaming and the shitty smells and the drawing on the walls and all that awful
stuff. I don’t know how parents do it.”
“Thank god there are other people wiling to reproduce for us, right?” Mikey
asked with a grin.
Ryan shook his head. “We’re overpopulated. Dwight said it best. There are too
many people. We need a knew plague.”
“That’s horrible,” Ray said blandly. “You’re horrible. A new plague. That’s so
messed up. I think you need to see a therapist, Ryan, not become one.”
“Except he totally has a point,” Mikey told Ray. “We are reproducing way too
fast. Once the baby boomers in America retire, the current working class will
be entirely incapable of supporting them with the usual retirement care. It’ll
collapse the Social Security Benefits network. Outside America, overpopulation
will take up every place that has trees. We’ll lose our number one producer of
air. We’ll lose our natural resources, the drinkable water will be consumed,
and energy levels are unsustainable. Fossil fuels will run dry. Homelessness
will run rampant. There won’t be enough food to go around. We’re killing
ourselves faster and faster with every generation.”
“Well aren’t you guys both a ray of sunshine,” Ray said.
Ryan snickered. “He said “ray,”” he told Mikey.
“Oh my god, no way,” Mikey drawled sarcastically. “Ryan, you need to grow up.
Stop laughing at petty names and curse words and sexual innuendo. Ray is just
your average synonym for “sexy mother fuck with the hottest abs and the cutest
face and the biggest dick.” Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“That’s not what my name means,” Ray said, almost clueless.
“God, I love you,” Mikey told Ray with a dumb grin.
. . .
Ryan lied awake, waiting to fall asleep.
Around three A.M., Ryan started to get scared.
“Ryan?” Mikey slurred, waking up when Ryan started to hyperventilate in the
middle of his panic attack. Ryan fell out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom.
He turned on the sink and kept splashing cold water in his face, trying to calm
the fuck down. “Jesus, Ryan,” Mikey murmured, coming up behind him and leaning
against the bathroom doorframe. “What’s happening? Is something wrong?”
“Brendon hasn’t f-fallen asleep,” Ryan stuttered, shaking.
“I thought that was normal.”
Ryan shook his head. “He, he got woken up e-early this morning, a-a-and he
hasn’t slept since. This, th-this doesn’t happen. Not anymore.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Mikey yawned. When Ryan didn’t respond, Mikey narrowed
his eyes and craned his neck to get a better view of Ryan. He was crying.
“Shit, Ry, hey,” he breathed, stepping forward and pulling Ryan from the
mirror. He put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and another on his hip. “Come back to
bed,” he said. “I know Ray’s a big guy, but there’s plenty of room. You’re
gonna come to bed and get some undisturbed sleep. It’ll all be okay.”
Ryan whimpered and shuffled forward, resting his head on Mikey’s collarbone and
wrapping his arms around Mikey’s waist. He hardly ever was the one to seek out
comfort. Mikey would know that this was serious.
“It’ll be okay, Ry,” he soothed. “Come back to bed. It’ll be okay.”
. . .
“We’re gonna head down early,” Mikey told Ryan. “And not because of Ryan,” he
added quickly before Ryan could even begin to feel bad. “Gee’s actually being
proactive on something and he’s already planning the wedding. He wants all of
us there. Especially you.”
Ryan frowned. “Why would he want “especially me” there?”
Mikey smirked and made a motion of zippering his lips shut.
“I fucking hate you,” Ryan groaned.
“Anyways, I was thinking, you know, since it’s our last day here and all, that
we’d maybe go see Pete.”
Ryan looked to Mikey in surprise. “Pete’s here?”
Mikey nodded. “Their tour ended about a week ago. Pete’s home, so is Patrick. I
think Andy still lives in Chicago? Or maybe that’s Joe. Anyways, I was gonna
text Pete and see if he could spare us some time. Really catch up again, see
old friends, have some fun. Introduce Ray, since Pete’s never met him.”
Ryan grinned. “I’d like that.”
“Sweet,” Mikey said. “Okay, yeah. I’ll send him a message. I’ll let you know if
it happens or not. I just think it’d be fun to see him again, after not seeing
him for a really long time, and then that having sudden reunion at the show.
It’d just be cool to hang out again. Really solidify the feeling that he’s not
gonna ignore us anymore.”
Ryan nodded. “Call him up, then.”
Mikey smirked. “Yes, my overlord. Your wish is my command, and all that
bullshit.”
“I don’t hate you anymore,” Ryan gigged. “In fact, I think I love you.
Accidentally in love and all that jazz. Let’s run away with each other, Mikey.
We’ll go to Neverland and be young forever. We’ll raise ten boys and fight
pirates and dance with Native Americans in the most racist way we can.”
“You can’t take him from me,” Ray said as he stepped into the main room with a
plate full of scrambled eggs and pancakes and syrup he’d gotten form the
leftovers. “Sorry, Ry, I waited my whole life for this man, I think I’m gonna
have to put up a fight before I let you take him away to some weird star-island
place.”
“Then it can be all three of us,” Ryan laughed. “You into polygamy?”
“Oh my god,” Mikey choked. “No, Ryan. You are not allowed to take my Ray-baby.
I’m sorry, but I cannot share. Even though his dick is so big that there is
more than enough to go around, I’m sorry, I’m insatiable. I need his dick,
like, for real. I really fucking need his duck.” Mikey looked to Ray with an
almost hungry expression. “Speaking of which, Ray? I need your dick. Like,
now.”
“Please not in front of me,” Ryan giggled. “I don’t wanna see that.”
“Liar,” Mikey laughed. “You just asked for polygamy! Here’s the next closest
thing. You know you’ve always wanted to see us fuck.”
Ryan flipped him off, grinning.
“Sorry, Mikey,” Ray said, ducking his head to kiss the top of Mickey’s head.
“Gotta say no to the invitation. I’ve got to get ready. Did you forget?”
Mikey winced. “Uh, maybe?”
Ray sighed, but was still smiling. “Dinner with my parents?”
“Oh shit,” Mikey said. “Fuck, yeah, I-I forgot. I’m sorry, Ray. Look, I’ll go
get ready. We’ll meet with Pete tomorrow. Looks like we’ll be going back to
Chicago late Monday after all. Sorry.” Mikey looked to Ryan with an apologetic
expression. “Think you’ll be okay by yourself? Just for tonight.”
Ryan didn’t want to be alone.
“That’s okay,” he lied. “You guys go have fun, yeah? Meet the parents. I hope
Mikey is pretty enough to cover up that he isn’t someone you’d want to take
home to your folks.”
“Dick,” Mikey said with a grin.
Ryan smiled tightly and lied back on his bed, shutting his eyes and praying he
could fall asleep before he was drawn back to pondering the pros and cons of
getting to know Mikey’s razor.
. . .
“They told me what you want,” was the first thing Brendon told Ryan.
Ryan frowned. “Who’s they? What did they tell you?” Ryan could only imagine
what horrible ideas Brendon had been fed if his parents or siblings were the
ones to tell Brendon whatever he believed to be true.
“My, my sister,” Brendon whimpered. “And my dad. They, they asked about you. If
you were still there. And then they asked if you were still there. Then they
showed me this, this pamphlet, one they had from church. It was talking about
the dreams. My siblings and my parents, they all had dreams like these. They’re
the devil trying to tempt you with sin and violence and turning your back on
your family. You dream with people. They’re bad people. They will be in your
head for the rest of your life. My dad calls them demons.”
Brendon looked at Ryan with fear in his eyes. “You’re a demon,” he whispered.
“In my bible, a demon came to the people, looking like an angel. You looked
like an angel. You’re a demon.”
“No, I’m not,” Ryan said firmly.
“You’re in my dreams to have sex with me,” Brendon continued, just barreling
on. “You want to hurt me and use me. You want me to go with you to the devil.”
“Jesus,” Ryan sighed. He hung his head in his hands, trying to figure out how
he was going to fix this. He wasn’t sure if he could fix this. It was showing
to be very difficult to break through the propaganda and lies that Brendon was
being fed. He was scared he wouldn’t be able to ever break Brendon out of it.,
not completely
“I’m not the devil,” he said slowly. “I’m not here to, to have sex with you. Do
you know who I am?”
Brendon nodded. “A dem—”
“No, no, no,” Ryan cut in. “Not a demon. I am not a demon, Brendon. I am a
flesh and blood human being, just like you. I am a normal person. I had a
father and a mother. I have friends and people that I now see as my real
family. I’m in school, studying, to help you. I like romantic dinners and long
walks in the park,” he tried to joke.
Brendon didn’t seem any less tense.
“Brendon, please,” Ryan pleaded gently. “You know me, okay? You know me better
than your parents do, and you know that I’m not here to use you or hurt you.
I’m here to help you. I love you.”
“You’re not supposed to love me,” Brendon whimpered. “I-I’m a boy.”
“So?” Ryan asked, forgetting himself.
Brendon looked horrified. “That’s a sin!” he cried out. “You’re one of the
devils!”
“No, no, it’s not a sin,” Ryan said, trying to remain calm. “It’s not. You’re
religious, right? You’re Mormon. What kind of god would proclaim everlasting
and eternal and unconditional love for everyone, and then start setting up
rules to say what kind of love is wrong or right? That’s messed up, Brendon,
and I know you know that. The sweet little kid I used to know knew that. He
knew that love was love and it was a beautiful thing to have, no matter for
whom.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brendon stuttered.
“I’m talking about when I first met you,” Ryan continued softly. “When you were
young and scared. I stayed with you every night. I held you and comforted you.
I sang to you when you asked me to and I took care of you, I took care of you
better than your parents ever did. And I never once left you. Because I love
you. And you know that’s true. And you know that I will never hurt you. And I
will never use you.”
Brendon whimpered, but didn’t reply.
“Do you know who I am, Brendon?” Ryan asked.
Brendon bit his lip. “Ryan Ross?”
“Yes,” Ryan affirmed. “And, I’m also your soulmate.”
Brendon stared at him.
Ryan agonized over how bad of a decision that may have been.
“My… my soulmate?” Brendon repeated shakily. “What… Is that what it sounds
like?”
“What does it sound like?” Ryan asked.
“Like…” Brendon visibly trembled. “Like I’m supposed to… to marry you?”
Ryan almost laughed. He probably would’ve if he wasn’t so messed up from how
badly this seemed to be going. It was just another peg into the hole to know
that Brendon saw a soulmate as someone you married. Rigid ideas were rampant in
this poor kid’s head.
“You can marry me if you want,” Ryan said. “But… It’s more like your other
half. Except it’s not. I’m, I’m your perfect compliment. I’m the person you’re
meant to spent the rest of your life with.” That was also a very rigid idea, he
had to admit. There wasn’t much freedom beyond that, unless you wanted to fuck
up your own head.
“The rest of my life?” Brendon echoed. “Is that… That’s the love, right? You
love me. And you wanna stay with me.”
Ryan nodded, hoping Brendon didn’t read to much into it.
“D-doesn’t that mean you want to have sex with me?”
Fuck.
Ryan shook his head. “You can love someone without having sex with them,” he
said. “I mean, yeah, it’s meant to be a romantic, marriage and shit. If you
wanted that with me, I’d gladly give it to you. But I won’t take it from you.”
Brendon nodded, though Ryan was pretty sure he didn’t understand.
“I just want to make you happy and safe,” Ryan told him gently. “That’s it.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m going to find you and I’m going to take you
away from your horrible family, and you will finally be safe. You will finally
be happy. You will be free to go out and do whatever you want, see whatever you
want to see. You can go wherever you want to go and be with anyone you want to
be with. All I want is to give you the freedom I know you’ve longed for.”
Brendon looked down at his hands. “… I’m gonna wake up now,” he murmured.
“Goodbye.”
. . .
Ryan woke up in the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d never known that
Brendon could wake himself up and end the dreams.
Mikey was standing above him, looking very concerned. Ryan didn’t say anything
to him.
Ray was next to Mikey, phone to his shoulder to mute whoever was on the other
line.
“Ryan?” Ray called out softly. “I’m talking with Travis. He wants to know if
you want to have surgery to end the dreams.”
Ryan stared at Ray, speechless.
Ray winced. “Because we think you should,” he said. “You’re getting worse every
night, Ryan. You sleep like you’re dead and no one can wake you. You sound
distressed, and it’s like all you ever have anymore are nightmares. We’re all
really worried about you. We think you should end the dreams.”
Ryan turned away from Ray and stared at the ceiling again.
***** Blow a Kiss, Fire a Gun *****
Chapter Summary
     that's the thing about life
     you never see it coming
Chapter Notes
     so uh my best friend beat the shit out of me with a pillow when i
     told her what was going to happen in this chapter
     that's your warning
In his Psychological Institutions and Rehabilitation course, Ryan remembered
learning about a sort of law that left him very, very upset.
It was called Civil Commitment. It was the name for the list of criteria that
would justify involuntary commitment, or hospitalizing someone who their
surrounding friends and family thought was too messed up to be allowed to
function in everyday life.
There were four criteria. The first was that the person could only be
hospitalized if they had a need for treatment. Then there was the idea of Grave
Disability, where the person was unable to care for his or herself and was
hospitalized to help them. Then there was the criteria of being dangerous to
his or her self, mostly meaning that the person was imminently suicidal. And
finally, they could be institutionalized if they were a danger to others, such
as committing acts of violence, suffering from substance abuse and addiction,
and taking their frustrations out on his or her family. Women were
statistically more likely to harm her family while men more likely to harm
strangers.
There was a right to refuse treatment as long as there was informed consent and
whatever, but Ryan remembered being irrationally angry when learning about all
of this.
He fucking despised people who institutionalized their loved ones without that
person’s consent. He knew that it would do so much more harm to that person in
the long run. He hated people who just gave up and threw their loved ones away
because they couldn’t handle their problems.
He knew that this always messed up the person being thrown away. Their loved
ones were basically telling him or her that they could not handle them anymore
and wanted them gone. They were washing their hands of all responsibility for
that victim and turning their backs, sending them away and trusting some over
furbished building to send that person back when they were normal again, like
fixing a fucking computer.
Ryan especially hated this because there has never, ever, in the history of
anything, been a definition of normal. No one had any right to say what was
normal and what wasn’t. Ryan hated how parents immediately opted to drug their
kids just because they had more energy than was considered “normal.” He hated
how parents left it to counselors and therapists to make their struggling
teenagers feel loved just because they were working a nine-to-five. Ryan hated
how friends just rolled their eyes and said, “not again,” when they were faced
with someone they “cared” about, crying.
Ryan was sickened by the apathy the suffering were faced with. And he would
kill himself before he let another person make decisions for him.
. . .
“I’m not getting a fucking surgery and that’s fucking final,” Ryan said, voice
surprisingly even. He was on the phone with Travis and he was pissed. Lunch
with Pete was in an hour, and then they were on a flight home only two hours
after that. “I’m not doing any of that, Travis. And if you try and make me, I
will kick you in the fucking teeth.
“All I’ve heard is the constant worrying of all your friends through Ray,”
Travis sighed. “All I’ve heard is how you’re erratic in sleep and you’re
starting to lose your temper in ways that you’ve never done before.”
“And that’s a fucking reason to dig into my skull and destroy the only thing I
have that connects me to Brendon?!” Ryan was sneering, angry and almost
violent. The calmness was gone. “I don’t care what they think, I am not letting
them take this from me! Brendon’s all I’ve got to look forward to! And things
might start getting better! Everything’s starting to look up, Brendon’s
starting to talk to me again, don’t you get that? Don’t any of you get that?”
“What we get,” Travis began slowly. “Is that you are becoming physically and
emotionally unstable. You’ve been lashing out at people when you’d never done
that before, reportedly. You’ve been making noises and sounding like you’re
being hurt in your sleep. You haven’t been eating and I’ve been hearing that
you got a fucking head wound? From Brendon. Which is fucking crazy, I have
never heard of people sustaining measurable, physical injuries from a dream.
Then again, that could totally be possible. I mean, there is the theory that
sustaining true injuries in the brain would be perceived as so real that the
injuries would become real? Maybe, if we were in a Shyamalan movie.”
“Who told you that?” Ryan asked with a scowl.
“Ray,” Travis said. “It’s always Ray. Ray’s one of my friends, remember? I’m
his friend. And he’s your friend. And you and I are friends, kinda. And I’m
kinda worried about you.”
“For your research,” Ryan said dryly. “I get it.”
“Except not? Dude, you’re, like, kinda smart. And you don’t back down and it’s
fun to talk to you. I mean, we’ve met, like, only three times. But those three
times stuck with me. C’mon, Ryan, give me a little more credit. I’m not a
heartless jerk.”
“But you’re willing to make me take a surgery and get rid of the person I
love?” Ryan scoffed. “You’re such a piece of work.”
“You don’t even know what the surgery is,”Travis sighed.
“Split-Brain,” Ryan snapped. “The term to describe the result when the corpus
callosum, the tissue that connects the two hemispheres of the brain, is
severed. It is mainly a surgery used to treat seizures and shit, sometimes
cases of schizophrenia. It’s the classier lobotomy.”
Travis sighed again. “Okay, yeah, forgot you’re in psychology.”
“I’m not getting the surgery,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m not. Tell Ray off. I’m
gonna tell him off. I’m gonna make a god damn powerpoint slide presentation for
all the reasons that I refuse to get the surgery. I love Brendon and I’m not
going to abandon him, no matter how bad this gets. I’m with him, to the end.
Just like Gee said to Frank, right? He’s fucking mine, and I’m fucking his, and
I’m not going to lose him to a fucking scalpel and assholes “friends” who don’t
know the first thing about the bullshit they’re spouting!”
Travis was silent for a long moment. “Are you sure about this, Ryan? Cause this
is serious.”
“I’m fucking deadly serious,” he said. “They’re not saying shit. Not ever
again.”
“Good luck, Ryan,”Travis said softly. “… You’ve got this.”
“You’re fucking right I do,” he grumbled before hanging up.
. . .
“It was wrong of me,” Mikey said just before Ryan stormed out of the hotel room
ahead of Ray and Mikey to go to lunch. “Just, I don’t have the right. To do
anything to you against your will. Especially with Brendon. It’s like I forget
that…” He shrugged. “I got to my soulmate pretty easily. I was a wrong. I’m
sorry.”
Ryan stared at the fake wood of the door. “I forgive you.”
“Fuck, thank god,” Mikey breathed. “Ray’s sorry too. He’s just nervous, I
guess.”
Ryan sighed. “I forgive Ray, too. Don’t ever try and fuck with my head again.”
Mikey nodded. “Never again.”
Ryan made to go out the door, but then paused. “I know that I’m asking a lot
from all of you,” he said. “And I know it’s gotta be hard. I know you care
about me and I know you hate to see me like this. But please, just believe me
when I say that this is temporary, and that I will fix this. I just need you
all to be patient, and trust me.”
Mikey nodded again. “Okay.”
Ryan returned the nod and left the hotel room.
. . .
“And suddenly the bus just, like, slams to a fucking halt, and poor Patrick
goes flying off the sofa and falls to the ground, which, you know, was where
Joe was, and then fucking head butts poor Joe in the fucking dick!”
Pete was laughing and clapping and almost stomping his feet as he told his
story. Mikey was choking on his salad and Ray was laughing politely into his
hand. Pete had gushed over Ray, hugging him like they’d known each other
forever. Ryan knew it meant a lot to Mikey to have Pete and Ray get along.
“That’s fucking awful, Pete,” Ryan chuckled. “Where is Patrick anyways?”
“He’s helping his grandma move to Temecula.”
Ryan frowned. “She’s leaving Chicago?”
Pete nodded. “Same with his parents. They want to be somewhere warmer. Better
for arthritis, I think. They don’t like the cold. They hate it. They all just
wanted to be here. I don’t blame them, you know? This place is amazing.”
Ryan nodded, looking out at the street. They were at an Italian place called
Folliero’s and it was between main L.A. area and Pasadena. Pete had chosen it
because he really like the pizza here.
“Do you miss Patrick?” Ryan asked because he was curious.
Pete gave a smile, and it was tinged with sadness. “Miss him every second of
every day that he’s not here.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Pete shrugged. “At least he’s gonna come back. It’s only a few more days.”
“How was the tour?” Mikey asked. “The one show we got to see was fucking
amazing.”
“It was awesome,” Pete said with a grin. “Man, we had so much fun. The first
few shows, we partied and all that shit after, cause we’re young, you know? You
gotta live it up while you can. But like, a week in, we were all so fucking
exhausted. Patrick and I were lucky if we had the energy to have a quickie in
the venue bathroom. We almost made out on the stage once. It was my fault. I
was going on six hours of sleep over the last forty-eight hours and he just
looked so damn good there, seriously. The lights make him look fucking
angelic.”
“You’re so gone for him,” Mikey giggled. “It’s been, what, eight years? You two
have been going strong for eights years.”
“You and Ray have been going for five,” Pete giggled. “And Gee and Frank? Isn’t
that like, six years or something? I mean, the only people who have it up on us
are William and Gabe.”
“Jesus,” Ryan said, “I haven’t talked to those guys since high school. How are
they?”
“I haven’t talked to them either,” Mikey added.
“They’re traveling and shit,” Pete said. “Haven’t stopped since they graduated,
really. They got married in Brazil. Isn’t that crazy? I don’t know if it was
official or if it can carry over to other countries and shit, but it’s fucking
cool! They were in those white outfits with the tree branch crowns. It was so
gorgeous.”
“That sounds amazing,” Ryan agreed. “I’ve missed those guys. Isn’t that weird?
How you can be friends with someone for all those years, but then just drift
away? I should give them a call sometime.”
“Good luck,” Pete said with a grin. “They’re hiking the Hindu Kush trail right
now. They’ve been hiking for a little under a month, I think. It’s in Pakistan
and Afghanistan regions. They post a lot on Facebook once they’re back with
wifi, but they usually disappear for weeks at a time. You gotta be able to
catch them. You would probably have a better chance reaching them on Facebook.
Just shoot them a message, maybe comment on a picture. They’ve got a lot of
awesome stuff up there. From India to Japan to Uganda. These guys have done
everything.”
Ryan smiled a nodded. “I’d love to see them again.”
“Dude, yeah!” Pete suddenly exclaimed. “We should all meet up! All of us go
home to Chicago just for a last hoorah, right? That’d be so much fun. Revisit
all the old hangout spots, like that one bridge we all went under and spray
painted the opening line of Romeo and Juliet.”
“Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands
unclean,” Ryan recited.
“Dude, you’re way too good at that,” Mikey chuckled. “Oh my god, how the hell
did I ever go through high school thinking you were failing?”
“I was failing,” Ryan said dryly. “But I also happened to have tried out to be
in Romeo and Juliet at my middle school play. I used to have that entire play
memorized because I wanted to be in it so badly that I tried out for every
single part available, even female parts.”
“Did you get it?” Ray asked curiously.
Ryan snorted and drank his soda. “No,” he grumbled, still very upset about
that.
Mikey snickered. “You suck.”
“That was an awful insult,” Pete said with a smirk. “Mikey, come on, you know
that you’re so much better than that. You can come up with something a lot
better than “you suck.” You’re above petty insults like that. I’m so
disappointed in you.”
“Fuck off, Wentz,” Mikey laughed, kicking him playfully under the table. “I’m
funnier than you. Please, get over your jealousy of me and move on with your
life.”
“I should throw my milkshake at you,” Pete giggled.
“But then the boys won’t show up,” Mikey drawled. “C’mon, Pete, you know they
only want you for your body, your mind, your heart, and your sheer talent.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “They’re all just so shallow.”
“I know,” Mikey huffed. “How selfish. At least when you and I fucked, we put on
a god damn show.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Ray asked, frowning a bit.
Ryan grinned and winked at Ray. “Mikey knows you’re the best he’ll ever have.”
“Yeah, Ray,” Mikey said. “Not only that, but you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
“And your dick’s big,” Pete giggled.
“All of you have big dicks,” Mikey huffed. “I’m fucking tiny. I used to be
proud of my six inches, but then you idiots showed up, with your monster cocks.
Ryan, seriously, I don’t know how you fit into your pants every morning. I can
see it when you walk, do you know how crazy that is? Jesus, never in a million
years would I have thought you’d be bigger than Pete of all people.”

“When the hell did you see my dick?” Ryan asked with an arched brow.
“You blacked out once with your pants off and your underwear around your
ankles,” Mikey explained. “I’m pretty sure it was the narcolepsy. You know, you
blacked out in the middle of dinner once. You were passing me the potatoes. You
dropped the potatoes and broke the bowl. It was awful. Have you noticed ho
you’re not blacking out anymore?”
“Brendon isn’t being treated like he was before,” Ryan sighed. “He’s more like
a slave than a person. But they don’t hit him as much and he’s allowed around
the house, and even outside. But it’s all trees and he doesn’t know where he
is, so I’ll never know. Also, he’s a teenager now. He doesn’t fall asleep like
a little kid.”
“Well, that’s awesome, then,” Pete said. “You’re getting better, Ryan. That’s
gotta be good, right? I mean, you deserve to be better. So things aren’t
perfect, what ever is? It’s a lot better than it used to be. That means you’re
a step closer to being happy.”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m not after happiness, really,” he said. “I mean, I’d love to
be happy. I’d love to have a fairy tale ending. But Brendon’s my number one
priority.”
Pete smiled a bit. “Sorry for ever trying to take you off track.”
Ryan just shrugged. “When’s the wedding?”
“November,” Pete answered. “It’s gonna be a fall wedding. With all the red
leaves and stuff. It’s gonna be gorgeous.”
“Who’s the bride?” Mikey asked with a smirk.
“Do not let Patrick hear you say that,” Pete chuckled. “He’s all about me and
him being equals. Neither of us is the bride, nor the groom. He wants it to
just be two men, getting married, cause they love each other. We love each
other.”
“Patrick’s the bride,” Ryan said knowingly.
Pete winked at Ryan. “Patrick’s the bride.”
“That’s awful,” Ray chuckled.
“But, hey, Ry?” Pete began. “What the fuck happened with Spencer? Did you
really just kick you out? Like, was that for real? Cause if that was for real,
I might have to find him and tear him apart. That’s fucked up, Ryan. Just
because he doesn’t want to be friends with you doesn’t mean he can treat you
like trash.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan said, smiling a bit sadly. “He had to keep it short or I
would’ve never let it go. I’m a weirdo, you know. I wouldn’t have backed off.”
“Yeah, you would have,” Pete said. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Ryan. If he’d
asked you to leave him alone politely, you would’ve bent over backwards to make
it happen. You and I both know that Spencer didn’t have to treat you like shit.
And I mean it, Ryan. Give me one good reason not to kick his teeth in the next
time I see him.”
“Because I’m asking you not to?” Ryan murmured, feeling more downcast the more
Pete pushed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Yeah,” Mikey cut in, looking pissed. “Just Ryan’s lifelong friend tossing him
on the street with a concussion because he had guests coming over. No, that’s
not a big deal at all. Just one of the dick-iest moves ever committed by any
human being, fucking ever.”
“Can we drop it?” Ryan whimpered
“Crap,” Ray mumbled, looking at his phone.
Ryan and Mikey and Pete all looked to Ray, a bit alarmed. Ryan couldn’t
remember having ever heard Ray curse, even if it was one of the PG curse words,
like crap or damn. But he was fucking relieved to have everyone’s attention
taken from Ryan’s tiff with Spencer.
“We’ve got an hour to our flight, and it’s rush hour,” Ray said. “Sorry, Pete,
but we’re gonna have to cut this short.” He reached out and shook Pete’s hand.
“It was awesome to meet you. I definitely would like to see you again.”
“Awesome to meet you too, man,” Pete replied with a jovial grin. Mikey got up
to hug Pete, messing up the shorter man’s hair in a fond manner. Ryan went up
and hugged Pete too. Pete held onto Ryan as tight as he could.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Ry,” he said. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
Ryan grinned and waved goodbye with his own parting words before they left for
the airport in a cab.
. . .
“So, we’re gonna have everything color coded and awesome,” Gerard said, showing
Ryan his sketches he’d drawn for the wedding. Ryan was very impressed, and even
more surprised by how much work was in all of this. Gerard usually got bored
with an idea about three pages in, unless it was a comic or something to do
with Star Wars. But here, Gerard had sketched out the outfits and the cake and
even the bouquets he wanted. Ryan also knew that, come the actual planning,
Gerard would go with something much simpler. But for now, Gerard wanted
everything to be as beautiful as he imagined. “I’m gonna be the bride,” Gerard
said.
Ryan smirked. “Any reason why?”
Gerard blushed. “Because I wanna be,” he mumbled under his breath.
Ryan snickered. “I can’t hear you…”
“Because I wanna be,” he whined. “Don’t laugh at me, Ry, I really do want this,
and I know it’s weird, but…” He shrugged. “Just, it’s what I want. It’s
probably super gay, but hey, I am gay. Or at least I like it up the butt. So
that explains my tendencies.”
“Being gay is a sexuality, not a personality trait,” Ryan said with a chuckle.
“That’s not what the television told me,” Gerard said.
“The television is wrong,” Ryan said. “So is most of the world population.
Don’t listen to the shit they say. You act like Gerard, not some gay guy. And
that’s how it’s supposed to be, okay?”
Gerard giggled a bit. “You sound so empowering.”
“Fuck you,” Ryan said with a grin. “I’m serious, don’t lower yourself to that
level. You’re your own person, not a fucking title.”
“I know, Ry,” he giggled. “Thanks. I’m still gonna wear white, though I’ll
probably end it at that.”
Ryan arched a brow and held up a sketch Gerard had done of himself in a regal,
ball gown wedding dress. Gerard blushed and snatched it from Ryan’s hand,
hiding it away and clearing his throat. “No comment.”
“You’re such a pretty girl,” Ryan teased.
Gerard giggled, choking out a, “fuck off.”
. . .
“I wanna hear all about it,” Josh said, throwing a rock at a stop sign. “I
really do. I’ve always wanted to see L.A.. It’s a far crying from Ohio. I mean,
I’ll always love where I was born, But L.A.! That’s the city of lights!”
“That’s Paris,” Ryan said.
“And L.A.,” Josh said with a haughty smile. “Dubbed that for some movie, and
the bright lights of the city.”
Ryan made a face, not buying it. He googled “city of lights,” and hit the
Wikipedia page. He chose clicked on “disambiguation,” and was loathed to see
that Los Angeles was listed there. “Fuck,” he mumbled.
“I was right,” Josh cackled. “Suck my dick, Ross.”
“Show me your dick and I’ll cut it off,” Ryan replied with a sickeningly sweet
smile.
Josh gasped dramatically. “Not Tyler Jr.!”
Ryan blanched. “You named your dick after Tyler?”
“I didn’t,” Josh snickered. “He did. We were ten and he’d never drank scotch
before. He ended up losing his pants and he named my dick after himself. It was
adorable. He threw up about three seconds later and my mom has never forgiven
him because we never got the stains off the carpet.”
“You guys…” Ryan trailed off, honestly at a loss for words.
“Are best friends for ever!” Josh sang like a teen girl. “Oh my god, he’s gonna
be the bridesmaid and everything! We go for mani-pedis every Thursdays and once
time we even did karaoke together and, oh my god, she sang like a fucking
horse!”
“You know you just referred to Tyler with the feminine pronoun, right?”
Josh faltered. His eyes darted around like he was thinking. “Oh,” he said with
a giggle. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Thank god Freud doesn’t actually know shit, otherwise you’d be in a hell of a
tiff with me,” Ryan said with a smirk. “I mean, really, Joshy. Falling for your
best friend who’s taken? That’s fucking heartbreaking.”
Josh giggled and tossed a rock at Ryan’s feet. “You saw right through me,” he
played along, giving Ryan an absurd wink. “C’mon, Ry,” he prodded after a
moment. “You don’t seem all that excited to tell me about your amazing
vacation. Did something happen? Did you get flashed by a man in a bathrobe, all
unaware and innocent on the street? I tell you, the world we leave in.” He
shook his head, tutting. “Just a brave new world.”
“Fuck you for making that reference,” Ryan said. “Fuck that book.”
“Are you kidding?” Josh asked, incredulous. “That book is an exact portrayal of
our society today!”
“No, that’s 1984,” Ryan corrected. “Brave New World was kiddie porn.”
“I’ll give you that,” Josh conceded. “But it made some very important points!
Such as the only way out from a society of crippling low levels of
individuality was suicide.”
“He killed himself?” Ryan asked. “The guy they grabbed from Alaska or
wherever?”
“Uh, yeah?” Josh shook his head. “The guy hung himself, Ryan.”
“I thought he just walked in circles until he collapsed,” Ryan said.
“You took the listing of the cardinal directions way too literally,” Josh
chided.
“I wasn’t really expecting such fanciful prose,” he said. “That entire book was
straight porn most of the time, and the author had the biggest hard-on for
Ford. Orgie Porgie, Ford and fun? That used to be my favorite nursery rhyme.
Now its good name has been soiled.”
“I don’t even know what nurse rhyme you’re talking about,” Josh told him,
grinning. His grin fell very quickly, though. “Why are you avoiding the
conversation about the trip?”
Ryan sighed and hung his head, shrugging. “It was just a lot of awful all
together,” he said. “I’ve still got a scab on my head, and most of my friends
are now really pissed off at an old friend of ours, and it’s just a huge mess.
I don’t know how things got so bad so fast. I knew being an adult would be
hard, but I never guessed it would be like this. I’d always dreamed that, at
the very least, I’d have figured out how to do the most basic things. Mediate
relationships, accept apologies and let things go once they’ve reached a
definitive end. But I’m not anywhere close to that. I get angry and even hurt.
I feel like my heart has been skinned alive. I thought I’d figure out how to
handle all this pain, or that I’d be just a little better at it than I was as a
teen. But… I guess not.”
Josh grimaced and nodded. “I got invited to Debby’s funeral,” he said. “She
died a year or so ago, but they only just now got around to doing the ceremony.
Something about preparations and making everything perfect. Her family used the
money she’d been saving for her wedding for the funeral. Don’t try to tell me
that isn’t fucked up, because I know it is.”
“Are you gonna go?” Ryan asked softly.
Josh shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I never got to meet her, you
know? Never in person. I only ever knew that beautiful girl in my head. I don’t
want the first and only time I ever see her in person to be her corpse. I’d
rather only know her in my dreams.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said softly.
“It’s okay,” Josh sighed. “I mean, not everyone can have a happy ending.
Statistically, at least fifty percent of us have to suffer in the end. If that
weren’t the case, we’d be a lot closer to ending war and achieving worldwide
peace.”
“War is in our nature,” Ryan told him. “It comes from our insatiable need for
revenge. If no one was looking to get someone back, we wouldn’t have wars.
That’s why animals are better than us. They get attacked and killed by other
animals, same as we can be attacked and killed by other people, but they never
seek out revenge. We do. All our violence stems from revenge.”
“Fuck you, Batman,” Josh giggled.
Ryan snorted. “Horrible role model.”
“So, you hate Batman, then?” Josh asked with an expression Ryan couldn’t ever
hope to read. He was beginning to get used to his inability to read Josh.
“I don’t hate Batman,” Ryan said with a sense of déjà vu. “I just don’t think
he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread like the rest of the world does.”
Josh nodded. “But you gotta admit,” he began. “The Dark Knight Trilogy? Best
Batman ever.”
“Hardly,” Ryan scoffed.
“Who would you say?” Josh asked, a bit incredulous. “Because if you think that
Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale didn’t create the most compelling,
dramatic, and relatable Batman of all time, you’re wrong. And I’d like to hear
about how you’re wrong.”
Ryan smirked and said one word. “Nipples.”
“What the fuck?!” Josh actually shouted. “No way! No fucking way! No, I did not
just hear you say that! Don’t you even dare try and tell me that fucking George
Clooney’s Batman is the best! I’m gonna have to fucking kill you just to put
you out of your misery and do the world a favor!” He was smiling, and that was
the only way Ryan knew that he wasn’t serious.
“Really?” Josh asked after a second. “Like, actually?”
Ryan shrugged. “George Clooney’s always been one of my favorite actors.”
“You’re crazy,” Josh groaned. “Oh my god. I cannot believe that I am friends
with you. Fuck, fuck, look, say something quickly, something smart, so I can
try and forget this traumatic event.”
“How horrifying is it that human beings built special places for people to go
and die where the rest of society won’t be bothered by them?”
Josh stared at him. “Come again?”
“Hospices,” Ryan clarified. “We preach human kindness and affinity to
compassion, yet we toss away the terminally ill and dying and don’t spare them
a second thought. And we didn’t want to bother doctors and nurses, so we built
separate places for them to die, away from everyone else. We say it’s for their
own comfort, but it’s mostly so we can say we gave them good care and don’t
have to visit them, because a weekly therapist comes by with a dog and call it
treatment.”
“Ok-ay,” Josh said slowly. “This is not what I had in mind.”
Ryan arched a brow. “Not smart enough?”
“Too smart,” he huffed. “Way to make me doubt our own species. I’m not all
about that death and darkness like you are, Ryan. I prefer to go through life
ignorant.”
Ryan smirked. “At least you admit to it.”
“Like so many others won’t,” Josh agreed. “Because I’ve been thinking, Ryan.”
“Oh no,” Ryan drawled.
Josh grinned and flipped him off before continuing. “I’ve been thinking a lot
about our own minds. And I’ve noticed that people who enjoy the artificial
things and rarely ever think for themselves or learn something new are happy
for years and years. But the thinkers and the readers and the learners, the
people who have been asking questions since day one, are miserable. They see
frailty to life that they can’t change. They know they’re going to die. They
hate themselves.
“It’s only once you become older that things switch. The people obsessed with
the artificial realize that relationships and ideas are what matters, and that
they have nothing. The thinkers and readers and learners held on to the people
they loved, so they’re a bit happier. But no one is perfectly happy. Only the
people who are unaware of mortality are happy. I want to be that. I want to be
stupid and happy, forever.”
Ryan nodded, taking it all in. “… Don’t you think the ignorant will end up
unhappy eventually?”
“No,” Josh said simply. “Because the second things go south, for the first time
ever, it’ll be from learning that they’re dying through abrupt experience. And
then, it doesn’t even matter anymore.”
. . .
Days went into weeks, into months, and Ryan was nowhere close to reaching out
to Brendon and actually working himself back into Brendon’s life. He went into
his second semester of grad school dead eyed and slouched, spending any free
time he had bent over books. Josh helped him study and Mikey recorded himself
reading the entire glossary in the back of Ryan’s Psychology Research Handbook
so Ryan could listen to it when he took naps and shit. Ryan had no idea where
Mikey and gotten this idea, but he knew the terms like the back of his hand for
all the tests, so he was grateful.
He never really got around to messaging William and Gabe like he’d intended.
Every time Ryan realized he’d forgotten for yet another day, a wave of guilt
clenched his chest and made his stomach churn, and Ryan always promised himself
he would do it tomorrow to make that feeling go away.
And it wasn’t like Ryan wasn’t busy or anything, and was just avoiding making
contact with them again. He had graduate classes and Brendon to work about,
helping Gerard and Frank plan the wedding and working out the dates so he could
also make it to Pete’s. He and Mikey and Ray went to see Fall Out Boy in
concert twice since L.A., and Ryan started his research for his degree. Travis
and him still met once a month, mostly because they now just enjoyed each
other’s company and their higher thinking debates. So it wasn’t like Ryan was
avoiding William and Gabe. It was just that Ryan felt like he was too busy most
of the time to be able to commit himself to what could be a long winded
conversation about nothing while he had all these other somethings to deal
with.
Of course, he missed William and Gabe the more he put it off. He missed the way
both of them were infinity cheerful, despite any circumstance. And Ryan thought
it was amazing that they were traveling the world together, doing everything
they’d written down in their bucket list they’d made over one lunch break back
in high school. He missed William’s limitless ability to forgive and heal, and
he missed how Gabe would laugh with his head thrown back. Ryan imagined that
they had crows feet and laugh lines and new scars that they would be proud to
tell the story for. To Ryan, William and Gabe had always represented what a
perfect, healthy relationship was, one full of love and understanding and joy.
But in the end, Ryan wasn’t able to remember to contact them during the times
that Ryan actually could. So he put it off another and another day, always
telling himself that he would definitely do it tomorrow, even though that
tomorrow never came.
. . .
“W-William was killed in a m-mugging gone wrong,” Pete sobbed over the phone.
“Gabe hung himself in their h-hotel room when he found out.”
. . .
Ryan didn’t remember the end of that phone call. He woke up with Brendon, but
he couldn’t see anything. Ryan wasn’t sobbing or whimpering or breaking down.
In fact, he was absolutely silent. But tears flowed endlessly from his eyes and
he couldn’t make them stop. Ryan knew he was going into shock. And he knew that
couldn’t be a good thing while you were dreaming.
“Ryan?” Brendon called out. Ryan couldn’t see his face, and he didn’t want to.
He knew that he’d only be faced with more of Brendon’s stinging denial, even
though he’d been doing so much better. Ryan couldn’t handle that right now, he
didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be fucking anywhere. He wanted to
fall asleep in this dream and never wake up, he wanted to go wherever William
and Gabe were and beg for them to come back. Or bring them back himself.
“R-Ryan, are you okay?”
Ryan flinched when he felt something warm and alive touch his face. Ryan wanted
to turn away, but then his brain put two and two together in the haze of
heartbreak, and Ryan realized Brendon was touching him. His breath caught and
Ryan froze. He still couldn’t see, but he couldn’t imagine who else or what
else this could be.
“What happened, Ryan?” Brendon’s voice asked. Ryan began to blink a lot, then
reached up to try and wipe his eyes. The tears flowed persistently, and Ryan
really wanted to be able to see right now, because he was almost certain that
Brendon was actually touching him, and Ryan really wanted to see that.
“What happened?” Brendon asked in an even softer tone. Ryan whimpered and
leaned forward. He was even more surprised when the top of his head gently hit
a body, someone’s chest. He could feel it expand and contract. Ryan was pretty
sure he could feel Brendon’s heartbeat. He hated why he was like this, and he
hated how his heart began to soften, so wrapped up in the heat of Brendon’s
body that all other thoughts were erased.
“Ryan, talk to me?”
Ryan sobbed. “W-William and Gabe are d-dead…”
Brendon went silent for a moment. “Are they the ones who’ve known each other
since, since they were kids?”
Ryan nodded. Then he felt arms come around his shoulders. Ryan was pulled into
Brendon’s chest and he could cry harder because Brendon was actually holding
him, and he didn’t know what to do with that.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Brendon murmured. “I-I’m sorry they’re dead.”
Ryan shook his head. “H-how could they die?” he asked brokenly. “W-why them?
They’re good people, they’re, they’re the only real perfect match, I-I don’t
know why the world would kill them! They’re good people, they’re s-so good…”
“You told me the world isn’t fair,” Brendon mumbled. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Fuck,” Ryan sobbed. “Fuck! F-fuck this place, this fucking life! Fuck all of
it! I-I hate it! I want out!”
Ryan felt Brendon tense.
“You… You don’t mean that, right?”
Ryan sat up straight and could finally see through the tears. It was Brendon,
and he didn’t look any different, unless Ryan counted the fact that he looked
like he was ready to cry with Ryan. Brendon bit his lip as he met Ryan’s eyes.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured. “And… William. William and Gabe.
They’re real, I know they are. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave me, please.
I know I’ve been horrible to you, if you really are real. I’m sorry.”
Ryan shook his head, reveling in the warmth.
“I think I love you, Ryan,” Brendon said.
Ryan shut his eyes and started crying again.
. . .
Both weddings were put off to an undeterminable date.
. . .
It felt almost like an insult when it was bright and sunny and warm on the day
of the funeral. Especially since the funeral was in Chicago. Of all days for it
not to be stormy and overcast and just fucking depressing, it was the day they
buried William and Gabe six feet under. Pete had fought tooth and nail and had
somehow gotten them in a joint casket. Ryan hadn’t even known that was
possible. And he was very glad that Pete had succeeded. The thought of the two
men being separate by word and dirt made Ryan physically ill.
The sun made Ryan irrationally angry. If the world was going to take William
and Gave away, the least it could fucking do was cry about it, could bring some
clouds and make it as despaired and broken as Ryan felt. Frank looked fucking
angry, and Pete couldn’t keep himself under control if he wanted to. His
shoulders shook and his face was bright red. He’d cried so much that he’d
gotten the hiccups. Gerard wasn’t much better and Mikey was just staring at the
casket like he wished he was the one in there, and not his friends.
The priest was reciting something that sounded halfhearted and empty. Ryan
wished that maybe Gerard or Pete could’ve given the speech. None of them really
believe in god. Especially now.
Ryan couldn’t stop imaging how the two must have felt. William was a fucking
optimist in the worst way. He could take genocide and make you believe that
there was a bright side. It wasn’t like William condoned horrible things, or
even justified them, he just couldn’t function in an evil world. He was too
good of a person. Ryan couldn’t even begin to understand how fucking scared he
must have been when the blade slid into his stomach. It had taken him over an
hour to bleed out, alone in a back alley, unable to move or call Gabe because
the mugger had taken his phone. Ryan could picture him crying and screaming
Gabe’s name. Imagined how William would’ve given anything to see Gave on last
time.
And Gabe, fuck. The police just showing up at his door, giving him the news.
Gabe had heard the police men say that William was dead. Gabe had offered
coffee and had assured them he would be fine. And only a minute after the cops
had left, he strung himself up from the hotel roof brace. Fuck, Ryan couldn’t…
He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Brendon. He just knew it’d be something
a bit quicker than hanging himself.
Ryan felt like screaming when the handlers or whoever started to lower the
casket. William and Gabe did not belong in there. William and Gabe belonged
topside, in the sun, seeing the parts of the world they hadn’t yet touched,
laughing and loving and fucking living. They didn’t fucking belong down there,
and Ryan was ready to tear that casket from them and bring William and Gabe to
the light again.
Ryan’s knees gave out and he dropped, listless, to the ground, just staring,
white as a sheet. Gerard sat down with Ryan, but didn’t move to help Ryan up.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and hid his face in Ryan’s
neck. Ryan could feel him crying.
“This is wrong,” Gerard sobbed, and Ryan felt a knife slide into his heart from
knowing that he wasn’t the only one completely helpless and horrified by what
the world was capable of.
. . .
They all went to lunch after that. Some Italian sit down restaurant they had
never been to before, but chose to because it was across the street from the
cemetery. All of them were together for the first time since high school,
sitting around a table.
Patrick, Pete, Ryan, Mikey, Gerard, Frank.
They were the only ones left.
***** Here's Your Future, Use It Wisely *****
Chapter Summary
     winding up and stringing in
Chapter Notes
     i can’t tell you how many of my friends have told me to “stop
     talking” because they’re “not high enough to understand the shit i’m
     telling them”
      
     CHUBS BUBS LUBS WHEN HIS HUB GRUBS ON HIS HUBBY'S GRUBBY BUBBY
     - Alex de S.E.
“I don’t want to get married with these memories,” Frank told Ryan once they
got home.
Ryan nodded and understood. Pete and Patrick crashed at their place and
everyone went to bed early and slept for almost two days straight, comatose.
Brendon didn’t talk to Ryan, but he did hold Ryan while he cried everything out
of himself. That meant more to Ryan than he could ever say with words.
. . .
“It’s crazy,” Patrick was telling Ryan at one in the morning. Brendon hadn’t
slept yet. Ryan was too drained to be really worried, like he should have been.
“Jesus,” Patrick murmured. “I don’t get it. Life and shit. Killing people. The
best people die in the worst ways.”
“Didn’t some kid explain it as God wanting the best people back?” Ryan sighed.
He and Patrick were sitting in the kitchen, drinking. Ryan was on his fourth
beer and Patrick was on his third. They both felt like drinking everything
away. Patrick and Ryan didn’t really know each other all that well. Patrick had
gone to a different high school and Ryan had only ever seen him with Pete
around, and whenever you went out with Pete, all attention would be on him, and
never you. Not because he was an attention whore or anything, he was just one
of the most captivating people ever. You couldn’t help but stare and watch what
he did. Ryan hadn’t ever been alone with Patrick before. The alcohol made it
easier.
“I think this is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen the world do,” Patrick
said.
Ryan paused when he had a revelation. “It’s not the world,” he sighed. “It’s
people. People are the ones destroying everything good in the world. The
forests, the air, the deterioration of moral norms. I mean, there are certain
things that have stayed the same, like sex and drugs and rebellion through the
various stages of life. But I’ve talked about this with Josh. It’s people
killing people.”
“People suck,” Patrick huffed. “They should just kill themselves instead.”
“That’s harsh,” Ryan told him.
“And you’re going to sit here and tell me that you’d rather have that fucking
murdering thief piece of shit alive and not William and Gabe?” Patrick sneered,
then took a swallow of his beer. “You know that that is bullshit. We want them
back. I’d kill to have them back.”
“And you’d be no better than them,” Ryan said. “Because while William and Gabe
are important to us, seven billion lives are seven billion times more important
than just one, and you passed math, so I know you understand that. You think
that Gabe and William are more important, but they’re only more important to a
few people. But there are billions of lives out there, with a billion more
William and Gabe’s, and they’re all more important to someone else than
everyone else, so you’re throwing away away seven billion people that are more
important to other people.”
“But there was only one William and one Gabe,” Patrick murmured. “And they were
killed and driven to suicide. And Gabe’s Catholic, he’s not going to heaven
now, Ryan. He’s gonna be in hell.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Ryan choked out.
“Why not?” Patrick asked, almost interrogative. “It’s life, Ryan. It’s the way
it fucking works.You can’t just deny something because you don’t like it. You
can’t just keep your head in the sand. People die and Brendon’s not gonna want
to be with you.”
Ryan stared at him.
Patrick shrugged.
“Fuck you for saying that,” Ryan whimpered. “B-Brendon is going through some
really hard stuff and he’s trying to be loved. He, he’s just a kid. He doesn’t
know what he’s doing.”
“He’s done with you,” Patrick said. “He’ll never want you. I’m sorry.”
Ryan’s hands were shaking. “I know you think you’re helping,” he said
carefully, not daring to meet Patrick’s eyes. “But I need you to stop.”
“You need to know when to give up,” Patrick continued. “Have you looked into
that dreaming ending surgery? That severs the hemispheres.”
“Shut up!” Ryan actually screamed. He knocked his beer off its bottom and it
spilled across the table. “I need you to fucking shut up! I’m at my breaking
point! My brain has been working up to this point like a fucking horror movie!
So I need you to fucking stop talking and leave me the fuck alone!”
“Ryan?”
Ryan’s head snapped around. He didn’t relax when he saw Gerard.
“Why are you yelling?” Gerard asked, rubbing his left eye with his fist. “Is
everything okay? What horror movie?”
“Go back to bed, Gerard,” Ryan ordered in a strangled tone. There were tears in
his eyes and it was showing in his voice. “Just, just go back to bed. It’s
fine.”
“No, it’s not,” he mumbled, moving to the table. He saw the bear and grabbed a
dry cloth, cleaning it up. “You’re not okay, Ry,” he continued softly. “You’re
crying. We’ve all been crying nonstop. We get it, Ry. We’re here for each
other.”
Ryan shook his head, not having the voice to explain.
Patrick sighed. “I’m being the voice of reason,” he said. “And Ryan doesn’t
like it.”
“No, fuck you!” Ryan snapped, shouting through the tears. “Fuck you! I’ve
worked too long and fallen too hard to lose Brendon! I don’t care what you, or
anyone else says! I’m staying with him! I’m not giving up! Fuck you for tell me
to leave him! Fuck you for being a heartless asshole! Fuck everyone who tells
me to abandon him!”
“It’s okay, Ry,” Gerard whimpered, holding a hand out in front of his body like
he was scared of Ryan. “No one’s gonna make you do anything.”
Ryan sobbed and pulled at his hair, looking away. “I-I need to get some air,”
he fumbled to say before rushing out of the kitchen and out of the door into
the pitch night.
“You’re the sickest of us all,” Patrick said to Ryan’s back.
. . .
Ryan went through his second semester of grad school like a zombie. Brendon
turned fifteen in April. They still hadn’t talked since the funeral. Brendon
didn’t want to talk to Ryan. Ryan didn’t care. Ryan faced every night with
empty acceptance. Brendon wasn’t ever going to be his. No one would.
Ryan had reached his limit. He couldn’t handle anymore. He couldn’t handle this
life, this fucking maze of decisions that he always seemed to be wrong about.
He was done with trying to figure out all the different ways he could bring
Brendon back to him and he was exhausted with working towards gray areas and
uncertainties and turning his back on his dreams.
Ryan knew he was being selfish. He knew that Brendon had thrown down the white
flag, and Ryan was just ignoring it because he didn’t know what to say. He felt
empty. He felt used up. He felt torn apart and wasted and like a corpse. He
didn’t smile. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk for days at a time. No one else was
doing much better. Ray hadn’t proposed, hadn’t even mentioned it. Gerard didn’t
talk about the wedding like he’d used to. Frank was erratic and angry and
hateful and he lashed out at everyone that looked at him in the wrong way.
Mikey relapsed.
That was the scariest night of Ryan’s life.
He’d been the one to find Mikey. Mikey hadn’t tried to kill himself or
anything, he’d just been dragging the blade and had forgotten to lock the door.
Ryan had thought no one was in the bathroom. Turned out Mikey was and the blood
from his wrists was staining the sink bowl. Ryan had taken the razor that was
from a disposable set and had flushed it the second he saw. Mikey had been
crying out in protest, sounding like a drug addict, going on and on about how
he needed it. Ryan had slapped Mikey across the face. Then hugged him so
tightly Ryan was sure he was hurting the other man.
Ryan hadn’t been able to bring himself to be bothered by that. He’d still been
so fucking upset with Mikey for doing that to them all. Ryan had called Ray
home immediately and Ray had pulled Mikey into their room and they didn’t come
out for a whole day.
Frank hadn’t let Gerard out of his sight after that. He’d been scared that
Gerard would relapse like his brother and break nearly six years of being
clean. When Ray and Mikey had finally left their room, Gerard latched onto his
brother and didn’t let go. They’d spent another full day watching Tarantino and
Romero movies, numbing themselves to the world through gore and fear and death.
Mikey had pulled Ryan aside for part of it and apologized. Ryan had just ended
up bawling and clinging to Mikey. Mikey didn’t speak to him again after that.
It wasn’t fun.
. . .
“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Josh told Ryan gently the next time Ryan
saw him. It had been over three months. Ryan hadn’t made it out of the house
aside from classes and grabbing groceries. Gerald was still driving him to the
university, but Ryan planned on asking him to stop. He hated wasting the gas
and Gerard’s time. Gerard had been meeting a serious block in his work. He
hadn’t drawn in his weeks. Ryan was worried about him. Everyone was worried
about him. Everyone was worried about everyone. Pete and Patrick had put out a
single that made Ryan lose his shit again.
“I’ve been worried, Ryan,” he sighed. “You know that I know what you’re going
through. I can help you.”
“I don’t want to be helped,” Ryan choked out. “I just want everything to be
fucking okay again.” He hung his head in his hands. “It’s not fair, Josh,” he
mumbled. “It’s not fucking fair. That they died, that you lost Debby. It’s like
there’s this hole in my head. This gap where they used to be. All the memories
I had with them were happy, to an extent. Now they all feel like death. Now
they feel like…” Ryan swallowed hard. “… I-I don’t know how it feels.”
Josh watched him for a moment before speaking. “It’s like an empty box in the
middle of the room, all alone and obvious. Anyone can walk in and know exactly
what it is when they see it and what it means. But the second family, the
people you’ve come to care so much about, they’re like the extra boxes, all
filled with books and movies and stuff. Yeah, the empty box is still there and
it still means what it always will, but you’ve got all this other stuff to
distract you from thinking about or looking into the empty box. They make it…
bearable. And I know your friends will help. And I know I’ll always be here to
help too.”
Ryan wiped a stray tear from his eyes and nodded. He then leaned against Josh,
wordlessly, just giving him a bit of his weight. Josh reacted instantly and
wrapped an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. 
“I’m here for you, kiddo,” he said softly. “Give me a time and a place. I don’t
even need a reason why. Just gotta know where to be.”
Ryan nodded, leaning against Josh even more. “Does it ever feel okay again?” he
asked in a broken whisper.
Josh shook his head. “Not like it used to.”
“Fuck,” Ryan whimpered. “F-fuck. This is fucking awful. I-I don’t like this. I
hate this.” He ran his hands over his face. “I-I’ve been avoiding talking about
this with him. With Brendon. Death is hard. He’s still just a kid. He’s
fifteen, yeah, but he’s got the education of a kindergartener. I can’t talk to
him about death. He’s not ready. I don’t know if he’ll ever be ready.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Josh told him softly. “You want him in your
life. Now you gotta let him be part of your life.”
“What if it hurts him?” Ryan asked. “What if I hurt him?”
“Life will hurt him anyways,” he said. “You’re not gonna hurt him because you
want to hurt him. You’re gonna do everything you can not to hurt him. You’re a
good person, Ryan, and he deserves a good person in his life. You’re that, so
you can’t turn your back on him now.”
Ryan shuddered, then nodded. “I-I gotta… Get my shit together. For him.”
“And for yourself.”
Ryan faltered. Josh sighed.
“You gotta look out for yourself too, Ryan,” he said. “I mean, I get that
you’ll always have Brendon first and foremost in your head. But you can’t help
treat a wound when your own hands are covered in burns. You gotta make sure you
keep yourself at a point where you are actually healthy enough to be able to
help him.”
Ryan grimaced. “Do I have to?” he asked in a tiny voice, sounding almost like a
child.
“Dude,” Josh scoffed. “Dude.”
Ryan groaned and nodded. “I’ll work it out. I hope he’ll listen. I really need
him to listen. More than anything. I just need him to listen to me. And, like,
I need to find out the right words to say to him. He knows I’m his soulmate and
he was pretty dead set on believing I only wanted him for sex.”
“That’s kinda messed up,” Josh affirmed.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I need him to not hate me and what I’m supposed to be.”
“How fucked up is it that we’re given our fucking soulmates, and we only become
obsessed with being with that person and that person only?” Josh asked out of
the blue. “What if I want to find someone on my own now that Debby’s gone? Am I
a bad person just because I don’t want to be alone? Why the hell can’t I try
and find something to fill that box? Why the fuck is searching for someone new
to love so taboo?”
Ryan paused, then shrugged. “Humanity’s always been pretty rigid,” he told
Josh. “We’ve never really been that accepting of outliers. Not until the
outliers either get violent enough to be listened to or the outliers gain so
many numbers they become their own majority.”
“But why can’t I find someone who could maybe love me like she did?” Josh asked
sadly.
Ryan pursed his lips. “I guess they’re just scared of you taking what they
think the world named as theirs.”
Josh ducked his head. “I just don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Ryan reminded him. “You have Tyler. And me. And Jenna.
We’re here for you. And fuck, I can totally help you out. You can meet my
friend Pete, he’s the guy in the band, remember?”
“How the fuck did you expect me to cope with the fact that you’re best fucking
friends with the bassist of Fall Out Boy.” Josh shook his head, beginning to
grin. Ryan was happy to put a smile back on his face. “Those guys are my jam.
Patrick Stump sounds like sex, you know? He’s got the jazz tremor to his voice.
It’s amazing. I fucking love those guys, their music is amazing. I wish I could
be in a band.”
“Why don’t you?” Ryan asked. “With Tyler? I’ll bet you can.”
Josh shrugged. “Tyler writes some amazing stuff, but he hates how he sings.
He’s also got the anxiety of a mental patient. Jenna really saved his life, you
know? He’s a fragile guy, and even though he puts up a great front of being
perfectly fine, we know he hardly ever is.”
Ryan grimaced. “Seems like that’s the fashion of the season. Pretend you’re
okay when you’re not. Masks are what’s in.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to be anything for anyone but what I already am for
Tyler and you.”
Ryan nodded. “Best of luck?”
Josh parroted the nod. “Best of luck.”
. . .
“Brendon?” Ryan called out softly into the darkness of the room. He could see
Brendon clearly, standing at the opposite side, wringing his fingers together.
“Brendon, can we talk?” Ryan asked, taking a few cautious steps towards him. “I
need to talk to you.”
“I-I’ve been reading,” Brendon said suddenly. “I found a book in my big
brother’s room. It’s from his school or something, he had it hidden under his
bed. And I read it and it’s… it’s about you. And me. About Soulmates.”
Ryan faltered. “You… you did?” He was suddenly very nervous. He didn’t know
what kind of school Brendon’s siblings went to, and he was terrified that it
was something awfully religious. What if Brendon thought Ryan was actually the
devil? What if he thought Ryan was going to molest him? What if Brendon thought
Ryan was only there to use him? Ryan felt sick. He couldn’t handle this shit,
Ryan couldn’t handle any more fear and distaste targeted at him.
“It wasn’t like any book I’ve ever seen,” Brendon said. “I mean, I can’t really
read. Not well. It took me almost a week. I stole the book because I heard him
talking to someone about it outside the house. He said… He said “soulmates.”
So, I had to find it. And I did. And I read it.”
Ryan stood there rigidly.
“… It sounds kinda nice, Ryan,” Brendon confessed in a tiny voice.
Ryan was thrown for a loop. “Really?” he asked, too scared to smile. “Do, do
you have questions? Of stuff you read? Or didn’t read? Because I can answer any
question you ask, or at least try to.”
Brendon shrugged, looking at the floor. He was scuffing his feet and Ryan
noticed he was only wearing socks. Ryan wondered of that meant anything. If
what Brendon was wearing and wasn’t wearing meant anything about what was
happening in his head or if it was just circumstance.
“Ryan?” Brendon called out timidly. “C-can boys be with… other boys?”
Ryan nodded immediately, because in his world, that question didn’t even need
to be asked. “Of course they can,” Ryan said. “You’re allowed to be with anyone
you want to be with, regardless of if they’re a boy or a girl.” Not entirely
true, though, now that Ryan thought about it. Josh had been right. It was
frowned upon to seek out a partner in anyone but your soulmate. But that was
too complicated for Brendon right now. “You can be with anyone you want.”
“My, my mom says that that is a sin.”
“Your mother is wrong,” Ryan said evenly. “I know you’ve known that for a long
time. Your mother and father? They’re wrong. They’re very wrong.”
Brendon bit his lip, then nodded slowly. “Wrong,” he repeated. “They’re wrong.”
“They’re wrong,” Ryan echoed softly.
Brendon nodded again. “A-and I can be… with you? I can be with you.”
Ryan hesitated, then nodded. “Only if you want to.”
“So you want to be with me?” Brendon asked.
Ryan hesitated again. “Yes,” he finally relented, hoping that Brendon wouldn’t
read into it and find the wrong answers. “I do, Brendon. You're my soulmate and
I’m meant to be with you. But only if you want to, Brendon. This is all up to
you. I will happily follow whatever decision you make.”
Brendon nodded, and Ryan felt like they were doing a lot of that. “Okay,” the
boy murmured. “And you want to be with me because you love me? Or because we’re
soulmates?”
“Because I love you,” Ryan said. “I know you because we’re soulmates. But I
want to be with you because I love you and I care about you and I want you to
be somewhere that makes you safe and happy. And if that’s not with me, that’s
okay. But I know that the safe and happy place is not with your family.”
Brendon shrugged. “They’re not that bad,” he mumbled.
Ryan held his breath to keep his patience.
“They are, Brendon,” he said carefully. “They beat you. You were only a kid and
they beat you. They keep you from school, they don’t let you leave the house,
and they have convinced you that you are somehow inferior to them and
undeserving of love. But all of that is fucking bullshit, Brendon. You deserve
to be loved.”
“And you love me,” Brendon replied. “So I already have what you say I deserve.”
“Not like this,” Ryan denied with a shake of his head. “You deserve to be loved
and feel loved. You should be surrounded with friends and family that want to
support you, and will support you.”
“Like your friends,” Brendon interrupted. “Pete, and, and Spencer?”
Ryan grimaced, but just nodded. “Like Pete and Spencer.”
“And Gerard,” Brendon added. It sounded like he was going to list people he
remembered Ryan talking about. Like he wanted Ryan to know that he had been
listening, all along. “And Frank? Mikey and Ray. Aren’t, aren’t Gerard and
Frank getting married? And Pete and Patrick? Aren’t they all getting married?”
Ryan smiled a bit. “They’re all getting married, yeah. I mean, they were.
Things are getting put off. None of us are feeling very…” He sighed. “No one is
very excited about their futures right now.”
“Why not?” Brendon asked, eyes wide with what Ryan guessed was curiosity.
Ryan shook his head.
“Oh,” Brendon said. “William and Gabe.”
Ryan winced. “Yeah. William and Gabe.”
“I’m sorry they had to die,” Brendon said in a trembling voice. “They didn’t
deserve that.”
“No one does.”
Brendon ducked his head and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.”So, I-I’m
allowed to be with you. You’re a boy, but it’s not actually wrong, right?”
Ryan nodded. “You can be with anyone.”
“Then why does God say it’s wrong?”
Ryan pursed his lips, thinking. He hadn’t read the bible in years, but he
remembered enough from Sunday school and what he’d heard from other people.
Everyone always quoted Leviticus or something to damn homosexuality, but Ryan
didn’t actually know the verse numbers, though he knew some parable and stories
that made him think twice about all that righteousness, as they called it.
“I think,” he began slowly. “That you cannot hold every word in the bible to
solid truth simply because it has a lot more messed up things in it. If you
take one thing as fact, you have to take the rest as fact. You can’t just pick
and choose. So if you’re going to damn homosexuality and oppress minority rule,
you also have to never make fun of bald people unless you want to be killed by
bears, and you’re supposed to cut your daughter up into pieces and send them to
religious leaders after volunteering her to be raped to save your own skin.”
Brendon’s eyes went wide. “W-what?”
Of course Brendon didn’t know that, if he couldn’t read a textbook, how could
he read a bible? He probably only knew the major stories that people selected
as safe to publicly represent their religion while the rest was swept under the
carpet and said to be “too old and detached.”
“In the bible, there’s a story of one of the prophets. He’s, like, walking
somewhere and a bunch of kids show up and they make fun of him for being bald.
The dude prays and suddenly there are bears that god apparently sent and the
bears maul the kids and kill them. It’s a ridiculous story and says a lot more
about their god than I think they want to acknowledge. Then there’s a story
when the tribes are in chaos or whatever and these guys show up at this dude’s
house and he’s like, “here’s my daughter, have her so you don’t kill me,” and
they rape her and it kills her and the dude gets pissed at the tribes even
though he was the one to fuck up. He cut her body into pieces and sent them to
the tribe heads or whatever as a protest.”
Brendon looked horrified. “That’s awful,” he said. “Who does that? W-what kind
of people believe in a god that can let that happen?”
Ryan grimaced and decided it was too early to fill Brendon in on the
existential debate of humanity’s own existence. “There are a lot of people
asking that same question, but then there are people who say it’s necessary. I
don’t know, Brendon. I’m sorry.”
Brendon shrugged, though he still looked really upset about the shitty stories
Ryan was pretty sure were legit. He remembered hearing his father talk about it
or something and the old man had used it as an excuse to validate his decision
to be an abusive dick head.
“I don’t want to live with a mean god,” Brendon said. “I don’t want someone
mean to control the world.”
“No one controls the world,” Ryan told him. “But you can control yours.”
“Control what?” Brendon asked weakly. 

“Your world,” Ryan replied. “It’s yours. It’s what you want it to be, and only
that. It’s what you want to make of it, and that’s all there is to it. Even if
you don’t like the world behind your eyelids, you can always make something up
in your head that’s better than what you have.”
“Something with you?” Brendon suggested. Ryan paused and waited for Brendon to
elaborate. “I mean, I-I always miss you,” the boy explained almost shyly.
“Whenever I wake up, I wish that I could bring you with me. You’re nice, Ryan.
And you care about me and that’s awesome and I’m not used to that, but I really
wish I was cause that would mean that I was always cared about to begin with.”
“I’ve cared since the day I met you,” he told Brendon softly. “That was four
years ago. And I never stopped wanting to be a part of your life.”
“I know you probably think I’m ungrateful,” Brendon said. “And I probably am. I
don’t know half of what you’ve gone through to help me. I’m really, sorry,
Ryan, and I’m going to do my best to be better for you.”
Ryan just shrugged. “Do you have any more questions?”
Brendon nodded. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
“No,” Ryan said without hesitation, because he honestly didn’t. Brendon was
fifteen and Ryan felt more like a protector than a lover to Brendon.
Brendon frowned. “Why not?”
All intelligent thought fled Ryan’s capacities.
“Am I ugly?” Brendon asked, looking almost hurt. “Is it because I’m a boy? I
thought you said I could be with anyone. Can’t you be with anyone? Why don’t
you want to be with me? Am I too dumb? Do you want someone else more? Am I just
a friend?”
“I literally cannot think around what you just said,” Ryan breathed.
Brendon frowned again. “Do you not want me, Ryan?”
Ryan sighed and hung his head in his hands. “You’re fifteen,” he told Brendon
after a moment. “That’s illegal. Remember how your parents made you scared that
I would use you? S-sexually? It is an actual problem in the world today. You’re
not at the legal age for sexual consent. If I were to do something sexual with
you, I would be labeled a pedophile and I would be put in jail if it was ever
discovered. So you don’t want me to want you, because that would mean that
there was something seriously wrong with me.”
Brendon shrugged. “I don’t care about that,” he said. “I just remember reading
about the importance of, of consumption? Commissary? Con… Consume…”
“Consummation?” Ryan offered gently.
Brendon nodded, smiling and looking a bit excited a knowing the word.
“Consummation,” he repeated. “I read about the importance of consummation of a
soulmate thingy.”
Ryan sighed and nodded. “It’s not actually that big of a deal,” he told
Brendon. “Some couples don’t even have sex, no once. Asexuality or past sexual
abuse are the most obvious reasons. There’s no doubt that your soulmate is your
truly best compatible person. But sex isn’t necessary. Consummation can mean
anything, not just sex. It means completion. Not sex.”
“Isn’t completion sex?” Brendon asked with a curious glint to his eyes. Ryan
couldn’t begrudge him for his obsession with sex. Brendon was fifteen, puberty
was making everything crazy, and since Brendon wasn’t able to dream or even
sleep without Ryan, he wouldn’t be able to have the luxury of sex dreams to
help him discover his own sexuality and sex drive. Ryan wasn’t sure what he
would do if Brendon came to him with an erection and asked for him. Brendon
should have started experiencing that sort of thing by at least thirteen,
though Ryan also theorized that Brendon’s less than ideal home environment
would stunt that part of development, among others, such as his emotional
capacity for stressors.
“Completion isn’t sex,” Ryan told him softly. “S-sex is…” He paused, searching
for the right words. “Sex is showing someone you love them,” he said. “Sex is
being with someone you love and using your body to give them pleasure. It’s
more about dedication and declarations of love than completion. Yeah, there is
an element of completion in sex, but it isn’t the driving force. Ideally, sex
is loving another person in the most intimate way possible. It’s the closest
you can get to becoming one person.”
“I wanna be one person with you,” Brendon said shyly. “You’re nice and really
smart. I wanna be nice and really smart.”
“You don’t take the traits of people during sex,” Ryan said with a chuckle,
though that sounded like a really good idea for the next smut novel that passed
as literature. At least it would have more creativity than a sex dungeon and be
less of controversy. Unless rape was involved. “I need out of my head,” Ryan
told himself softly. He looked to Brendon again and shook his head. “It’s not
like you'd suddenly know everything I know if we had sex. To be smart, you’ve
gotta get out there and learn everything you wanna know.”
Brendon hung his head. “That could take forever,” he mumbled, appearing to be
very unhappy with what Ryan told him. “I’m already so behind. I’ll never learn
everything I wanna know. Not in time.”
“In time for what?” Ryan asked.
“Before I die.”
Ryan went silent.
Brendon shrugged. “I know it’s gonna happen,” he said. “Soon. It’s gonna happen
really soon. My dad gets madder every day. I know I don’t have long left.”
“Yes, you do,” Ryan said. “I’m gonna find you. And then you’re gonna have an
eternity.”
Brendon smiled and it didn’t reach his eyes. “How many times have you lied to
me to make me feel hope?”
Ryan went silent again. He shook his head and looked away, wondering where this
was coming from. Brendon was slowly becoming more and more of a cynic as the
night went on. Ryan knew that Brendon’s life wasn’t easy, and he was honestly
surprised that he hadn’t started losing his drive sooner. It still hurt to see
and hear.
“I can’t remember having ever lied to you to make you feel hope,” Ryan lied. He
knew Brendon wasn’t ready to hear about the real truths that Ryan wanted to
protect him from.
“Promise?” Brendon asked.
Ryan just nodded.
. . .
“You should start with the wedding again,” Ryan told Gerard softly.
Gerard glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything.
Ryan sighed. “It’s been half a year,” he said. “I know none of us are going to
be okay any time soon. The grieving process is one of the few things that I’ve
never agreed with in psychology. Grieving is a lot more complicated than five
steps and an acronym.”
“Acronym?” Gerard asked. Ryan knew he wanted to change the subject, so he
relented and threw Gerard a way out.
“D.A.B.D.A.. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance,” Ryan recited.
“I never liked it. First making a false reality, then getting pissed at the
world? Bargaining for more life, depression, and then giving up. That’s not how
I grieve.”
Gerard nodded. “Frank erased four of them and stuck with angry,” he said. “I
can’t get past stage four. I was in denial, then just depressed. D. and D..”
Ryan smiled wryly. “Gotta love the irony in that one.”
“Kubler-Ross was a bullshitter,” Ryan said.
Gerard chuckled. “Gotta love the irony in that one.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m not related to him.”
“I know,” Gerard mumbled. “I’m just trying to cheer myself up.”
Ryan sighed again. He sat down on the sofa, beside Gerard, and nudged Gerard’s
shoulder with his own shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “You know this isn’t the end,
right? Not of everything, at least. It’s the end of what we had with them. And
I will never get over it, and I know you won’t either. But life is… it’s hard.
And you’re gonna have to keep on going. The world can’t stop just because you
want it to.”
“I can make it stop,” Gerard mumbled.
Ryan tensed. “… I know what Mikey did messed you up,” he began slowly. “It
messed all of us up. Especially Ray. Ray can’t even look at himself in the
mirror. He blames himself and it’s awful and it’s nobody’s fault, except
Mikey’s.”
Gerard’s head snapped to look at Ryan, angry.
“Don’t,” Ryan said quickly, cutting him off from whatever he’d meant to say.
“Don’t. You know as well as I do that Mikey had a choice. It wasn’t like when
Ray was back in L.A. and Mikey couldn’t do anything but call him. Mikey had the
choice to go to Ray and he didn’t. Now they’re both paying the consequence. I
know Mikey felt like he didn’t have any other choice, but you and I both know
he did. If he hadn’t had a choice, you would’ve relapsed a long time ago.”
Gerard flinched. “H-how did you know?”
“I’m your friend,” Ryan reminded him. “I care about you. I see it in your eyes.
More often after the funeral. I know it’s hard. And I know you’ve wrestled with
the demon almost every night since it happened. But you’ve gone to Frank every
single time and he’s helped you. I know Ray would’ve been able to help Mikey if
he’d just gone to Ray.”
“Don’t accuse Mikey of anything,” Gerard warned. “Like you said, I’m not okay.
I can’t be blamed if I punch you in the face.”
Ryan didn’t hear any actual threat to Gerard’s words. He knew Gerard was just
saying it because he felt like he had to. Gerard had always been protective of
Mikey and Ryan didn’t blame him for trying to intimidate Ryan.
“Mikey should’ve gone to Ray for the help,” Ryan repeated carefully. “And you
know it.”
Gerard held his head in his hands and didn’t say anything.
“You should call the wedding back on,” Ryan said again. “It’ll be good for
you.”
“I don’t care anymore,” Gerard said. “Frank just wants the title. What’s the
point anymore?”
Ryan frowned. “What do you mean? Frank loves you. He doesn’t want the title, he
wants you.”
“He threw a fit and I caved.”
Ryan shook his head and moved to his knees on the floor in front of Gerard.
“Frank loves you,” he reiterated. “That’s it. I mean, yes, he did turn into a
bit of an ass, but I think you need to try and imagine it. He loves you. He
wanted to be yours. And he knew if he proposed, you’d say no, so he had to get
you to do it. It was a dick move. I know it was, I’m sorry. And it’s still
bothering you, so I think you should talk to him.”
Gerard stared at Ryan with a pained expression. “He’ll just get mad.”
“And that’s wrong, and we’re not going to let him bully you.” Ryan rested his
hands on Gerard’s thighs because that was the only comfortable place to put
them. “Things aren’t going to get easier without you actually trying to fix
them.”
“I don’t want to fix anything,” Gerard mumbled. “I just want it all to be okay
without any of this stress. It sucks.”
Ryan nodded. “So it goes.”
Gerard whimpered and leaned to the side, falling against the armrest of the
sofa. “I’m tired of being sad,” he said. “I don’t like it.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m gonna take you to I-Hop,” he said. “Right now. You’re gonna
drown in syrupy goodness and you’re gonna forget all your pains in pancakes and
whipped cream.”
Gerard smiled a bit and nodded. “Thank you.”
. . .
“And I think that it was really cruel that you actually left me when I was too
scared to propose,” Gerard was telling Frank. “And it still really hurts and I
still can’t really believe you would leave me just because you weren’t getting
your way.”
Frank looked pissed. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were
narrowed, though they were narrowed past Gerard and at Ryan. Ryan wasn’t really
fazed. He’d dealt with a lot of angry people over his education and couldn’t be
bothered, no matter how must Frank glared at him.
“Did you really give Gerard shit for this?” Frank asked him.
Ryan shrugged. “He was bothered by it. I told him how to say it.”
“I don’t want to hear how you say it,” Frank huffed. “I wanna hear it how
Gerard says it. This doesn’t sound like him. And since it doesn’t sound like
him, I have no idea how to fix it.”
Gerard winced. “Frank has a point.”
Ryan rolled his eyes.
“Gerard doesn’t say shit like that,” Frank kept ranting. “Now I just feel like
an apology is enough. But if it was enough, then Gerard wouldn’t be upset of
that. If Gerard had spoken to me like he usually does, I would know how to make
it up to him.”
“Wait,” Ryan interrupted. “Are you telling me that I made it too easy? And now
you’re complaining that it’s too easy?”
Frank nodded, arms still crossed.
Ryan lifted his hands to rub his temples. “I don’t fucking get you people.”
Frank smirked. “Just the way I like it,” he said, before dropping his arms to
his sides and taking Gerard’s hand, pulling him away. “I’m gonna ride Gerard as
an apology until I figure out what he really meant. Seeya, Ryro.”
Ryan flipped them off and tried to think past his newly-found, self-induced
migraine.
. . .
”Why can’t you find me?” Brendon asked that night. “Why aren’t you looking?”
Ryan sighed. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “There are fifty states in
America, fifty-one if you’re gonna get politically correct. There are around
35-thousand towns and cities. The United States has a population of a little
less than 320-milllion. The only thing I know about where you are is that you
live somewhere with trees. All fifty states have somewhere with trees.”
Brendon looked upset. “But you’re still not gonna try?”
Ryan felt a sliver of guilt wrap around his heart and couldn’t answer for a
moment. “I decided to focus on helping you,” he said. “Not finding you. I know
I’ll find you one day. And I wanted to be able to help you when I did. In a way
that didn’t involve a stranger.”
Brendon frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Therapy,” Ryan replied.
“Therapy?” Brendon repeated.
Ryan nodded. “It’s these sessions. You sit down with someone who knows how
heads work and they listen to your problems and then figure out how to help you
get better. It’s like a doctor’s appointment, but for your brain.”
The boy grimaced. “I don’t like that. I don’t wanna be fixed. I don’t like
where I am or who I am, but I don’t want to change. What if I become someone I
don’t like?”
“You won’t,” Ryan said. “This wouldn’t be to change anything. It wouldn’t be
about fixing you, really. But you know that your head is backwards on some
things, thought just a few. It’d be focused on improving your perceptions of
yourself and enhancing you feelings of self worth. It’d be mostly for repairing
the damage your parents did to you and helping you live a better, more
fulfilling life.”
“I’m not gonna live past seventeen,” Brendon told Ryan. “I told you that,
remember? And it’s the truth. I’m not gonna live long enough. That’s why I wish
you were looking for me. So I could see you, at least once, in person, before I
die.”
“You’re not gonna die,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m not going to let you die. I’m
gonna find you and take your home and you’ll get to learn whatever you want and
you’ll be able to go wherever you want and you’re going to get a happy ending.”
“With you?” Brendon asked in a small voice.
Ryan nodded. “With me.”
. . .
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Mikey mumbled.
Ryan looked up at him from the stove where he was making pancakes because
everyone seemed to need a good boost in moral and his pancakes were the best,
hands down. Ryan hadn’t actually spoken to Mikey in a few days. Mikey had
avoided everyone, expect Ray. He knew Mikey was ashamed with himself and too
humiliated to talk to anyone. Ryan was actually kinda happy to hear his voice
again.
“You scared all of us,” Ryan said softly. “But it’s okay. I know any sort of
backlash we could give you would be nothing compared to how you’re punishing
yourself.” He grabbed the bag of chocolate chips from the fridge that he saved
for special occasions, and put them in the pancakes. “Just promise me you’ll go
to Ray for help, Mikey. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
Mikey nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Ryan shrugged. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Consider this my acceptance of your
apology. And feel free to drown yourself in the melted chocolate goodness that
are my pancakes.” He smiled at Mikey, though it was tinged with a hint of
sadness. “You’re loved, Mikey,” he told him. “And I don’t ever want to lose
you.”
Mikey blinked away tears and nodded, before hugging Ryan from behind. Ryan
relaxed and took Mikey’s hand and finished the pancakes.
***** He's an Amiable Boy, But Don't Assume a Thing *****
Chapter Summary
     domesticity isn't necessarily a good thing, but it also isn't half
     bad
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“The wedding is in a week,” Gerard told Ryan once he came in to eat pancakes
with Mikey. Frank was in there too, and Frank was grinning from ear to ear.
“Nothing fancy,” Gerard said. “We cancelled mostly everything after the
funeral.”
Ryan wondered how much of their life would now be measured in days since the
funeral.
“Frank and I are gonna go to the court house,” Gerard explained. “We’re gonna
wear white just because, you know? We want to. Wanna get hitched as fast as we
can. We made an appointment, we payed for the certificate, we’ve got the judge
and you guys will be the witnesses, if you wanna go. Mikey says he’ll go. We’re
gonna ask Ray once he gets home from work. Pete won’t be able to make it, but
he sends his blessing.”
“Your parents?” Ryan asked.
Gerard grimaced. “They weren’t very supportive of me and Frank to begin with.
Mikey and Ray were the final straw. They love us and we’re still their kids,
but we haven’t been invited to Christmas in years.”

Ryan frowned. He had noticed that. “Christmas is in a month,” he said. “I’m
gonna make it good for you. We’re gonna have fun. Secret Santa and a tree.”
“We’ve always done a tree,” Gerard reminded him.
“It’s gonna be really fun,” Ryan kept saying. “I’m gonna put a lot of work into
this. It’s gonna be the best christmas we’ve ever had.” He looked to Gerard.
“We need something good for all of us,” he explained. “We need to keep going.
We can’t keep running on empty.”
Gerard sighed. “You’ve got a point,” he relented. “We… we need that. This. We
need something to look forward to.”
“Beyond weddings,” Ryan tried to joke.
Gerard smiled a bit. “Beyond weddings,” he repeated.
. . .
“So, I was thinking this,” Frank said as he walks out of the dressing room at
the Men’s Suit store. He was dressed in a white suit jacket with a black button
up, a white tie, and white skinny jeans he’d brought along. Luckily, the whites
all matched. He’d also worn his scuffed black converse. Ryan really liked it.
It looked dressy enough to be for a wedding, while also looking like Frank.
Especially since he had insisted on wearing a beanie to the court house.
“Perfect,” Ryan said. “It is. It’s you.”
Frank nodded and surveyed himself in the mirror. “Sorry for being a dick and
blowing up at you,” he said. “I was just pissed because Gee was so upset. We
really do have our own language. He was so caught up in the way you told him to
say it that he couldn’t say it in his own words. Took me nearly an hour to get
the real deal out of him.”
“Sorry,” Ryan said because he couldn’t say anything else.
“It’s fine,” Frank said. “And I’ll admit, I was a dick. I was manipulative. I
probably don’t deserve to have him like I do now. Still, he’s forgiven me,
and…” Frank giggled like a loon. “Well, let me be Frank with you, Ryan.
Frankly, I sucked his dick like a pro and he was praying to me. I’m pretty sure
everything’s golden grace from here on out.”

“Golden was a bad choice of words
for this.”
Frank frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Golden?” Ryan repeated. “Golden showers?”

“What’s that?”
Ryan winced. “It’s, uh… it’s a sex thing.”
“With gold spray paint?” Frank asked.
“No,” he denied. “It’s where you piss on someone and it gets you or them off.”
Frank looked horrified.
Ryan laughed and clapped his hands, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe that
Frank hadn’t heard of that. Frank prided himself on being knowledgeable in
everything weird and feared. It was rare to tell the other man about something
he didn’t have at least partial knowledge about. Ryan was shocked that it had
been a sex thing that Frank wasn’t familiar with. This was an exceptional
discovery.
“That’s sick,” Frank said. “I would never pee on Gerard.”
“Well, thank god for that,” Ryan replied dryly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you
to pee on him either.”
“That’s so gross,” Frank spat.
“I get it, I get it. You’re a clean freak. A drop of piss on your dick is
enough to set you off, let alone on Gerard. You’re such a spazz.”
“If you ever pee on Gee, I’ll kill you.”
Ryan laughed again and shook his head. “God, you’re awesome.”
Frank grinned and flipped him off before going to pay.
. . .
“So how are you holding up?” Travis asked, solving a seven-row Rubik’s Cube.
Ryan was watching in fascination, so caught up in how unbelievable skilled
Travis had to be to be able to do this without looking at the cube that Ryan
didn’t hear his question.
Travis huffed and put the cube on his desk, unfinished. “How,” he repeated
slowly. “Are you holding up? Loss of life can put a metaphorical bullet in your
psychosis.”
“I’ve been better,” Ryan replied. “And don’t even start with me with
psychology.”
“Because you’ll run circles around me and shove my face in my own shit, or
whatever,” Travis mocked. “I’m not saying it because I think you don’t know.
I’m saying it because I need you to know that I know that you’re under a lot of
stress and I think that you need to get this shit off your back, clean slate.
Doesn’t matter if it’s me or someone else. I just wanna know that you’re
talking to someone about this.”
Ryan ducked his head and nodded. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sometimes I forget that
you actually like me.”
“I should kick you in the dick for that,” Travis said with a smirk.
“I’ll fight back,” Ryan told him. “I won’t win. But I’ll fight.”
“That’s the American way,” Travis drawled. “Go down swinging.”
Ryan sat back and pulled out his phone. “I’m ordering Chinese,” he said. “Want
anything?”
Travis smirked. “And we’ve come full circle.”
Ryan didn’t know what he meant, so he rolled his eyes and decided he’d just
double his order and let Travis eat what he wanted if he wanted.
. . .
“You should be the flower girl,” Brendon told Ryan. “My sister is getting
married. She’s talking about my younger sister being her flower girl. They’re
all gonna go out to the quarry a few miles away. She says she really likes the
guy from the time they met a few days ago.”
Ryan frowned. “Wait, has she never met him? I mean, before that?”
Brendon nodded. “She was the guy my parents agreed she’d marry.”
“When?”
“When she was little,” Brendon replied. “Just like my brother. And my other
brother. And my other sister. And when my mom gives birth, they’ll find that
baby someone too.”
Ryan faltered. “A-are you arranged to marry anyone?”
Brendon’s face fell, and he shook his head. “It’d be cruel of them to try and
arrange anyone to be with me. I’m no good. I wouldn’t be able to provide for a
girl. I wouldn’t be able to give her children. I wouldn’t be able to be their
husband.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ryan said.”You’d be a great husband, and an even better
father.”
Brendon frowned and shook his head. “No, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Ryan insisted.
“No, I mean I really can’t.” Brendon stood and lifted his shirt to show a scar
across the bottom of his belly. “When my parents realized how bad I am, they
got a veterinarian to come and sterilize me. They didn’t want me to be able to
reproduce and pass on my uselessness.”
Ryan didn’t have words to describe his horror.
Brendon smiled crookedly, though it didn’t meet his eyes, and pulled his shirt
back down. “Good thing I’m with you, right? Doesn’t matter if I can have a kid
or not. Men can’t get pregnant.”
Ryan could only nod.
. . .
“So Frank’s gonna show up around four,” Gerard said, looking at his watch. He
and Ryan were sitting outside the court house, eating cheese fries. “He’s got
Mikey and Ray. They’re seeing to, like, a flower bouquet, I think. I’m not
really sure.” Gerard pulled out his phone and reread the message he’d been
sent. “Uh, yeah. Bouquet. That’s all it says. Yellow bouquet.”
Ryan smirked and dipped his cheese fries in more cheese. “Yellow bouquet?
Sounds like a code word.”
“Well, Frank and the boys seemed pretty secretive when they left early this
morning.”
“Frank and his boys? That sounds like a porno, Gee.”
Gerard snorted and dipped his finger into the cheese, then flicked it at Ryan.
Ryan dodged and giggled. “You sure you should be eating this crap?” he asked
after devouring a few more fries. “I mean, it is your wedding night. You’re
stomach’s gonna be full of gross shit. What if you let out an awful fart while
Frank’s fucking you or something?”
Gerard choked on his fry and had to turn away to recompose himself. Ryan
grinned devilishly and waited.
“You’re awful,” Gerard said when he turned back around. “I mean it. And I
wouldn’t be eating these if that was a problem. I have self control, Ryan. And
I know my body. It’s not like I’m gonna get shit on his dick or something.”
“This is gross,” Ryan said.
“You started it,” Gerard shot back.
Ryan waved him off. “You nervous?” he asked.
Gerard bit his lip, before nodding vehemently. “Terrified.”
“Don’t be,” Ryan hummed. “He loves you, you love him. You know neither of you
are going anywhere. You’re in love and you’re happy and you’re both stable,
economically and emotionally. The only thing that’s gonna change is the way the
government views you.”
“That’s so weird,” Gerard said. “And… and weirdly right. I’ve always liked
that, you know. The way you can simplify everything to one statement. Easy to
understand, really smart. You’re smart, Ryan. Don’t listen to your dad or the
teachers. You’re really smart.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, but smiled, touched. “Thanks, Gee. It means a lot to me.”
Gerard nodded. “Aren’t you gonna get your doctorate in, like, two years?”
Ryan paused to think. “… Oh, shit,” he mumbled. “I mean, yeah. Fuck. I’m gonna
have to write my thesis.”
“You can do it,” Gerard told him. “I have the utmost confidence in you.”
Ryan meant to reply, but Ray’s car pulled up. A nice, black Volvo sedan, the S-
60 model. A present from Ray’s parents that Ryan was pretty jealous of, in a
friendly way. He often teased Ray for driving a luxury vehicle and Ray would
always let him drive it later.
Frank and Mikey piled out of the back. Mikey had a box in his arms, something
wrapped in yellow wrapping paper with a white bow on the top. Ryan nudged
Gerard and said, “there’s that yellow bouquet. Looks almost big enough to be a
dildo for you.”
Gerard blushed and stomped on Ryan’s foot.
Ryan laughed in the pain and stumbled away, taking Gerard’s cheese fries from
him. “You don’t need these anymore,” he said.
Frank came up to Gerard, all dressed up in his white and black. Gerard was
wearing a black suit jacket and a white t-shirt with black skinny jeans. They
were gorgeous opposites and Ryan smiled to himself, because the two men had
always looked good together. Gerard had bleached his hair for the occasion.
They were perfect physical compliments.
Mikey had a camera, and Ryan smirked when he saw him snap a picture. Frank and
Gerard were just standing in front of each other, smiling. It was honestly a
really sweet sight.
“Hey, Ry,” Frank said, turned from Gerard to look to Ryan. “Got any advice for
the soon-to-be newlyweds?”
Ryan shrugged. “Be the person your dog thinks you are?”
Mikey stared at Ryan. “Holy shit, that’s good. And we don’t even own a dog.”
Ryan shrugged and finished off his fries before offering Gerard’s to Mikey and
Ray. “We gonna do this or what?”
“Fuck yeah,” Frank said with a smirk. He looped his arm in Gerard’s and pulled
him to the court house. He was bouncing with energy, literally bouncing. He was
squeezing Gerard’s hand so tight that Ryan saw Gerard wince. But he was smiling
too and looked like he wanted to kiss the daylight out of Frank.
“I love you,” Gerard said as they went up to the main desk.
Ryan waited off to the side while Gerard and Frank did their thing, checking in
to make sure their judge was still available and confirming their witnesses
were above the age of eighteen.
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Mikey told Ryan, grinning. “Jesus, look at them.
Look at how happy they are. God, I haven’t seen Gerard smile like that in
years. I can tell you the exact reasons why Gerard’s ever smiled like that, and
it’s only happened four times, now five.”
Ryan looked to Mikey, curious. “Yeah?”
Mikey nodded. “First time was when he dreamed with Frank.”
Ryan hummed and smiled. “I was there.”
Mikey nodded again. “Second time was the first time he kissed Frank, which was
in the same minute as him meeting Frank. Third time was sex with Frank.”
Ryan snorted.
Mikey’s grin changed to a smirk. “Fourth was when I dreamed with Ray.”
“Now that,” Ryan began. “That’s why I love you guys. And your relationship. So
many siblings, especially brothers, have distorted relationships simply through
needing more attention from a particular parent. But you and Gee? You guys
aren’t brothers. You’re lifelong friends, people you can trust more than anyone
else. It’s amazing, really. People would want to do case studies on you guys.”
“That’s fucking dumb,” Mikey laughed. He paused. “… It’s always been me and Gee
against the world,” he explained. “Our parents fought a lot. We both have our
mental shit and we’ve gone through the same trauma. It’s mostly that we
realized that we’d get more encouragement and help from each other than mom and
dad.”
Ryan nodded. “Bad experiences breed good people.”
“Only cause we had each other,” Mikey said. “But you? You had the bad
experience, alone.”
“I had Spencer,” Ryan tried to argue, though it was weak, especially in the
face of the L.A. vacation.
“Something tells me Spencer wasn’t that supportive,” Mikey huffed. “And
anyways, if he was? You’d be a different person, Ryan.”
“Do you not like who I am?”
Mikey shook his head. “You’re fucking awesome. I wouldn’t have you any other
way. I’m just saying that bad experiences breed people who choose what they
become. You chose to become someone who fights to keep the people he cares
about from having the experiences you did. That’s it.”
“That’s the old “Nature versus Nurture” argument,” Ryan sighed. “Psychologists
fight day and night over it. Nature is saying the people we become are in our
genes. Nurture says that our environment makes us who we are. I believe in a
little of both. Shitty parents make a shitty life and opens the door to shitty
development. But some people are truly and inherently good. It’s a gamble and
no one can prove either way.”
Mikey grimaced. “Every thought that psychology is just the science of thinking
everything to death?”
“That’s philosophy,” Ryan scoffed.
Mikey chuckled and nodded. “You’re smart, Ry,” he said. “The world will come
around.”
“Come on, assholes!” Frank yelled. “I’m getting fucking married!”
Gerard ran up to them and pulled Mikey and Ryan through the courtroom doors.
His grip was clammy, but he was still smiling. Ryan knew he had to be nervous
as hell. Gerard was always the type of person to agonize over every decision,
from moving to a new house to choosing between waffles or pancakes for
breakfast. Ryan knew Gerard wasn’t scared of making the wrong decision, but of
messing up in the process and ruining things. Ryan also knew that was bullshit.
Frank had choked on the fucking engagement ring and had laughed it off.
Everything would be fine.
Frank and Gerard traded their vows in small whispers, then signed the papers.
Frank took Gerard’s name because Frank said that he wanted to be Mikey’s
brother. Mikey had teared up at Frank’s admission and tackled him in a hug.
Ryan had nudged Ray.
“Get on that,” he told Ray.
Ray bit his lip. “Still wanna help me?”
“Absolutely.”
Ray grinned and nudged Ryan back. “You’re the best.”
Ryan didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing that.
. . .
“They’re married,” Ryan told Brendon softly. Ryan was smiling at the memory,
the way Frank’s eyes had lit up when Gerard called Frank his husband, Frank
Way. “It’s amazing, Brendon. They’re really in love.”
“Boys can marry other boys?” Brendon asked with wide eyes. “Like, for real? I
thought you’d just been saying that or something. I didn’t know it could
actually happen.”
“It can happen,” Ryan said. “It happens all the time. Especially now. It got
legalized, though some states are fighting it.”
“They’re fighting love?” Brendon asked. “Why would they do that?”
Ryan shrugged. “I mean, some people have points. Not about gay marriage being a
bad thing. Gay marriage is when a man marries a man or a woman marries a woman,
by the way. But in the constitution, it’s stated that the federal government,
the big one? It can’t dictate things like marriage or religion. That’s against
the constitution. But the federal court is dictating it and it’s a huge states
rights issue. They’re not fighting gay marriage. They’re fighting for parts of
the constitution to be upheld.”
“All of them are fighting for the constitute or something and not gay
marriage?”
Ryan paused. “Okay, not everyone. Most of them aren’t. Most of them are against
gay marriage, which is sad, but their right. Only a few actually know about the
states rights issue.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Brendon said. “I mean, shouldn’t people just
try and be happy?”
“Ideally, yes,” Ryan affirmed. “But a lot of people find happiness in things
that hurt other people. They don’t realize it most of the time, but it’s hard
to have anything good without causing something bad to someone else.”
“I don’t want to be like that,” Brendon said. “I want to be happy in a way that
lets everyone else be happy to.”
Ryan smiled sadly. “That’s a really hard thing to do.”
“I’ll do it,” Brendon said firmly. “I’ll figure out a way. I’m not gonna give
up.”
. . .
“Things seem to be getting better?” Josh asked more than said. Tyler smirked
and ate his burger, watching Ryan and Josh talk with mild interest. Ryan didn’t
usually see Tyler because Tyler was usually out with Jenna doing something or
whatever. Ryan didn’t know what they did, but he was pretty sure Tyler owned a
real successful food truck. As in, successful enough to need to hire other
drivers to drive more trucks. “I mean, you look better,” Josh continued. “Last
time I saw you, you looked like a corpse. Or someone who had just binge watched
a TV show they regretted, but couldn’t stop from finishing. Like, the ultimate
shame and exhaustion. Wasted exhaustion. You may have looked like an
alcoholic.”
Ryan snorted and kicked him under the table. “Dick.”
“Dick magnet,” Josh giggled. Then he remembered what he’d said and sighed,
hanging and shaking his head.
“You fucked up, Joshy,” Tyler snickered. “I wish you’d told me you like dick. I
would’ve found you an awesome piece of fine male specimen. Or maybe a dildo. A
vibrator at least. For those lonely nights.”
Ryan was relieved when Josh just snorted and shoved Tyler a bit. It was kinda
good to know that Josh wouldn’t get upset over mentioning him being alone.
“I want a dildo,” Josh said. “If only to say I have one. And take selfies and
“accidentally” have the dildo on the desk in the background. Then people can
comment about it and get their laughs and it’s awesome. I love making people
laugh.”
“Even at your own expense?” Ryan asked.
Josh grinned and shrugged. “Anything to help them out. Make this life a bit
easier. Laughter is the best painkiller.”
“Amen to that,” Tyler said, nudging Josh back. “You should be a comedian. Or a
teacher. You should be molding future generations to not be assholes.”
“No way,” Josh laughed. “Fuck teaching! Fuck teenagers!”
“I’m twenty-three and I’m still scared of high schoolers,” Ryan confessed. “I
will never grow out of that shit. I was scared of most of them in high school
and I thought I’d get better. Thought I wouldn’t be scared once I became an
adult. Bullshit to that, right?”
“You’re adorable,” Tyler said. “You with your button nose. It’s cute.”
Ryan wrinkled his nose and caught himself crossing his eyes to try and see what
Tyler was talking about. “I do not have a button nose.”
“It’s cute,” Josh said. “You’ve got a cute nose.”
“Why are we talking about my nose?” Ryan asked with a sigh.
“Because your nose is a less upsetting topic than Kim Kardashian’s fucking
dumbass fame and the latest natural disaster wherever.” Tyler took a drink of
his soda. “You know what pisses me off? That we’re expected to help people. No
one thinks of actually being good. No one is good. They just know people are
gonna look down on them if they don’t do something. It’s fucked up. Whatever
happened to being a good person because it’s what you wanted to do?”
“Ryan could write a novel to answer your question,” Josh giggled.
“Not today,” Ryan groaned. “Not ever again. I’m fucking done with this
philosophy bullshit. I wanna talk about something, like, fun.”
“How does music work?” Josh asked.
“Sound waves,” Ryan said. “But, like, high pitched ones. Frequencies. Think
about it. The people sing one thing and it’s recorded, then it comes out from
the CD or whatever in another way. We hear the frequencies just a little
differently and that’s what dictates whether or not you like a song. I don’t
like rap. Maybe I hear it differently. And it also accounts for why people
sound different live.”
“I feel like there’s an actual scientific explanation for how we hear music,”
Tyler said.
“Probably,” Ryan agreed. “But I don’t know it. Neither do you, apparently. I’m
not a scientist and I’m not gonna understand that shit unless it’s explained to
me at a third grade level.”
“At least you’re realistic,” Tyler said.
“I want beer,” Josh blurted out.
Ryan and Tyler both looked to him with slight frowns. Something suddenly
sounded really off in his voice. He sounded strained and clipped and on edge
and Ryan could tell by the way his eyes met with Tyler’s that they both had no
explanation as to why that just happened.
Josh got up and went to find their waitress, Ryan assumed.
“What the hell,” Tyler mumbled, watching his friend go.
Ryan shook his head. “Did something happen today?” he asked.
Tyler pursed his lips like he was thinking. “Nothing that I can remember,” he
sighed. “I mean, if anything, that forever alone jibe should’ve been what set
him off. Not the realistic thing.” Tyler took another swallow of his drink,
then set it down in favor of rubbing his temples. “It’s been eggshells, man.
Josh’s either right as rain, or drowning in his own thoughts. I don’t know what
to do, you know? I treat him as normally as I can and that’s the best I can
do.”
“Does he talk about her?” Ryan asked, switching into therapy mode. He knew
enough about his major to feel comfortable with asking these questions and
figuring things out.
“All the time, yeah,” Tyler confirmed. “Not too much to make me worried, but
enough to make me not worried. He talks about her in healthy amounts. When it’s
applicable. And he doesn’t censor himself or trail off or look sad. He’s
actually happy to talk about her. Tells us stories, shares jokes. Jenna’s
always impressed. I’m impressed.”
Ryan frowned. “Can you think of anything out of the ordinary?”
Tyler chewed on his lower lip. “… When he wakes up in the morning, he gets up
immediately and goes to the bathroom for hours.”
Ryan arched a brow. “And?”

Tyler shrugged. “The shower runs.”
“Does he still sleep in the same bed as you guys?”
Tyler nodded. “We insist he does.”
Ryan choked on his own spit.
“What?” Tyler asked. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s horny,” Ryan replied.
Tyler blanched. “For real?”
Ryan nodded. “You make him sleep in the bed with you two. He’s a warm blooded
mammal, and male. I’m sure when Debby was alive that they’d have their fun in
dreams. Now he can’t.”
“People have sex in the sharing dreams?” Tyler asked, looking bewildered.
Ryan nodded again. “How else do you get off when your soulmate is miles away?”
Tyler looked at his drink. “…Holy shit.” He looked up at Ryan. “Do you do that
with Brendon?”
“What?” Ryan paled. “No. No! Jesus fuck, no! He’s fifteen! He hasn’t even
gotten a boner before! His growth is sexually stunted due to years of abuse and
paranoia. He’s a kid! Oh my god, why would you think that I’d do that?”
Tyler held his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, dude,” he said. “I don’t
think you’re a pedophile or something. But you’ve been alone longer than Josh,
and I was just thinking that what you do in dreams can’t really be actually
illegal.”
“It’s illegal,” Ryan snapped, shooting him down. “No.”
Tyler sat back and kept his hands up. “Sorry, man.”
Ryan scowled and looked away.
Tyler slowly began to smirk. “So that means you’re horny too, huh?”
“I will literally pay you if it means that you’ll shut up,” Ryan growled.
Tyler snickered into his drink. Ryan wanted him to stop fucking drinking before
he decided to drown Tyler in his own fucking soda. “You’re horny.”
“Did you know that I have studied so many murders that I know how to get away
with it?” Ryan asked rhetorically, bristling. “And I don’t need that fucking
stupid idea of an icicle. I could murder you with my own bare hands and get
away with it. I could murder you here and get away with you. Pull my hood up
and that’s it.”
“Josh would totally know you did it,” Tyler argued.
“Then I’d kill Josh,” Ryan said brusquely.
“Wait, why would you kill me?” Josh asked as he came back with a pilsner of
beer.
“Because he’s horny!” Tyler cackled.
Josh looked to Ryan in surprised while Ryan had to restrain himself from
reaching across the table and strangling Tyler.
“Me too,” Josh said. “Wanna hook up?”
Ryan and Tyler both fell absolutely silent.
Josh shrugged. “Two consenting adults, right? You’re not cheating on Brendon.
And I know it’s not a real thing. Just two people needing to get off. And we
trust each other. We’re friends. I don’t care about you in the way that this
would do anything weird for our existing relationship. I think it’s a good
idea. But you can say no if you want.”
Ryan stared at him for a long moment. “I’ll think about it,” he said, and was
surprised that he was being sincere. He really was going to think about it,
jesus.
. . .
“So you went out to lunch and Josh offered to blow you?” Frank asked from the
kitchen as they were all watching some shitty horror movie with leprechauns.
“What?” Ryan whirled around and sent Frank a taken aback expression. “No. Why
does everyone assume I’m all about sex?”
Frank shrugged.
“Who would top?” Mikey asked.
“Josh,” Ryan replied. “Wait, fuck, why am I answering that?”
“You wanna be fucked by Josh Dun,” Gerard giggled. Gerard was going on four
hours of sleep over the last three days, so Ryan couldn’t get upset with him,
but only him. Everyone else was perfectly well rested and had no excuse.
“I would totally let Josh Dun fuck me,” Frank said as he came back to the
living room with a bowl of sliced pineapple.
“Someone’s getting frisky tonight,” Mikey giggled.
“What makes you say that?” Ray asked.
“Pineapple makes your jizz taste better,” Gerard replied.
“You knew that,” Mikey told Ray. “Remember? I got you to eat it and sucked you
off, like, three times that day.”
Ray blushed. “Oh.”
Mikey snickered. “Oh.”
“You guys are all obsessed with sex, and I’m gonna recommend therapy,” Ryan
drawled, exasperated. “Seriously, it’s not normal to be talking so endlessly
about…” Ryan trailed off. “Wait, never mind. It is normal. Fuck, sorry. I’m
used to dealing with very rigid and conservative young women from the
neighboring Christian private university.”
“That sounds boring as shit,” Mikey giggled. “Introduce them to a vibrator or
something. Say it’ll work wonders for their complexion or something. Bitches
love a good complexion.”
“I feel like you can’t say that because you’re gay as fuck and I see you
agonizing over which shampoo to get for your hair,” Frank accused with a
giggle.
“Hey,” Mikey snapped, though he was smiling. “I gotta make sure it’s perfect so
that Ray won’t hesitate when holding onto my hair. Just gotta tug to set the
pace, you know? Plus, I love it when he pulls my hair.”
“I’m constantly horrified by how much I know about my brother’s sex life,”
Gerard said. “I could write a book for it. Mikey likes it when Ray sucks his
dick. Mikey likes it when he’s got a vibrator inside with Ray’s cock. Mikey
likes it when Ray has his cock and an additional dildo inside. My brother’s
asshole can fit Ray’s fist. Why is this my life?”
“Don’t question it,” Mikey giggled. “Just enjoy it.”
“How do I enjoy knowing my brother’s sex life?” Gerard asked, beginning to
frown like he was confused. “How do I enjoy that? Or anything? Oh my god, I
know the exact way that my little brother likes to be fucked and I don’t know
what to do about it.”
“I can fuck you hard enough to make you forget,” Frank volunteered.
Gerard looked to Frank and squinted. “Nah, I’m good,” he replied.
Frank looked wounded and placed a pineapple ring over Gerard’s left eye. Gerard
didn’t even try to push it off his face or anything. He just lied there,
letting it happen.
“It is kinda weird that Gerard knows so much,” Ray said. “Unwittingly, that
is.”
“He loves it,” Mikey said offhandedly.
Ryan took the pineapple off of Gerard’s face and threw it at Frank in
retaliation. He was mostly just relieved that the attention was no longer on
him.
“I think you should hook up with Josh,” Frank said. Ryan had spoken too soon.
“Maybe a raunchy tumble in the sheets will be good for you. Just a quick fuck,
yeah? You could probably use an awesome orgasm that doesn’t come from your own
hand. I know it worked wonders for me. And my complexion.”
Mikey raised his hand for a high five from Frank, which he was given.
“You guys really think I should give the thing with Josh a go?” Ryan asked with
a sigh.
Everyone nodded, save Ray. Ray usually preferred to keep his hands out of these
sorts of things.
“Go for it,” Mikey said. “It’ll be good for you.”
. . .
Ryan didn’t know if he wanted to tell Brendon or not. As he and Brendon talked
about the random cracks in the ceilings and what they saw in them, Ryan brooded
over this decision. He was mostly worried about cheapening the idea of sex for
Brendon. While it wasn’t necessarily as big of a deal as Ryan made it out to
be, he didn’t want Brendon to think it was dull and uneventful, something to
just toss between the sofa cushions.
But Ryan also felt like he was doing something underhanded, almost like
cheating. Granted, he and Brendon were not in a relationship, but they were
supposed to be. If circumstances were different and years added to, Ryan liked
to think they would actually be together, romantically.
But now that he thought about it, Ryan hadn’t even considered the idea that
Brendon could develop asexual tendencies. Fuck, wouldn’t that just be a kick in
the pants. Ryan wouldn’t push for sex, he would never be capable of doing
something like that to Brendon. But he would definitely be taking a lot of cold
showers.
“And maybe that’s… who’s that guy?” Brendon was pointing at a crack that Ryan
was one hundred percent sure hadn’t been there a second ago. Brendon was
unconsciously changing the environment to meet what he saw in his head.
“I think it’s…” Ryan shook his head. “I have no idea who that is. I’m sorry. Is
it someone you know?”
Brendon shrugged. “I don’t think know who it is.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “Well, let’s name them. It’s a boy, right?”
Brendon shook his head. “A girl. A pretty girl. I think she has brown hair. Do
you see her brown hair?”
Ryan nodded because he could see stains that would make him think of brown that
he was also sure hadn’t been there before. Ryan didn’t mind. He liked
discovering the world through Brendon’s eyes.
“Her name is Sarah,” Brendon said. “I’ve known her for a while.”
Ryan frowned. “What?”
Brendon nodded. “Sarah,” he repeated. “She’s a girl who walks through the woods
all the time. I see her out the window. I’ve seen her walk. She’s been doing it
for years. She’s really pretty. I really like her.”
Ryan’s heart sunk a little, though he would be dead before he discouraged
something that brought Brendon happiness.
“She brings me muffins,” Brendon said with a giggle. “I started talking to her
a month ago. She always asks why I can’t come over and see her.”
“Why haven’t you spoken about her before?” Ryan asked, feeling a bit betrayed.
Brendon shrugged. “You didn’t crossed my mind.”
That stung.
“Oh,” was all he said.
Brendon pointed at another crack. “That looks like my dad.”
Ryan didn’t trust his voice enough to respond.
. . .
“I’m gonna agree to the thing,” Ryan told Josh over the phone.
“What thing?”
“The sex thing,” Ryan elaborated. “I’m down with it. Kinda. I can’t just dive
under the sheets. I can’t do something cold.”
“So wine and dine before I make you mine?” Josh asked with an audibly shit-
eating grin.
Ryan rolled his eyes even though he knew Josh couldn’t see it. “Sure,” he
replied. “However you wanna say it. I’m agreeing to this for two reasons.”
“One,” Josh interrupted. “You’re horny as fuck.”
Ryan wanted to punch him in the teeth. “Yes,” he grit out. “That’s one. Two, is
that I’m hoping for mutual episodes of catharsis.”
“Come again?”
“Catharsis,” Ryan repeated. “The release of strong and repressed emotions in a
way that leads to relief.”
“Oh, cool,” Josh said. “Yeah, we can get on that. Right after I fuck you into
the mattress. Are you a pillow biter?”
“You’re seven sentences into this and I’m already regretting it.”
Josh laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Ry. Hit me up when you’ve chosen somewhere
for us to get dinner.”
Ryan hung up and prayed he hadn’t made a mistake.
. . .
Kissing Josh wasn’t anything like kissing Spencer.
When Ryan and Spencer had kissed, it was nervous and almost forced. They were
both determined to do what they’d planned on doing, but things started out
tense and awkward. It stayed somewhat awkward through it simply because they
were both virgins. The second time around, Ryan can’t remember well.
Still, Ryan knew enough to know that kissing Josh was very different from
kissing Spencer.
Ryan… Ryan kinda really fucking liked it. There was no pressure. No
expectations, no fears of fucking up and making things worse. When Ryan was
kissing Josh, it was just that. No expectations, no standards that Ryan needed
to meet. It was just give and take, friendly exploration. Ryan met Josh’s
tongue and they just had fun. Ryan could taste the pho noodles Josh had ordered
while Ryan hoped he didn’t taste too much like the spicy pork.
Josh wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist and pulled him down the sofa. Ryan
squeaked against his lips, not used to being manhandled around like this. It
was nice. He didn’t have to worry about anything so far. Josh had lied Ryan
back on the sofa and crawled on top of him to hover, kissing him slowly and
lazily and Ryan could really get used to this.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Josh chuckled softly, pulling back an inch or so.
Ryan smiled a bit and hummed softly under his breath.
“Sorry,” he said. “Long night.”
Josh nodded. “You know, you have total permission to call me Brendon in bed.
I’m down with it. Long as I get off, anything goes.”
“Okay, one, gross,” Ryan said. “Two, I’m not gonna allow us to do anything
super kinky. That’s dumb and I’m not about that. I am not adventurous in bed
and I’m not about to open up a door into getting off on Brendon.”
“Three,” Josh said. “You’re gotta stop listing things numerically. Please.”
Ryan snorted and pinched Josh’s stomach. Josh choked on a surprised laugh and
pinched Ryan back. It was natural and comforting and Ryan didn’t mind the way
he was pinned to the couch by Josh’s body. He felt safe.
“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight,” Josh said.
Ryan frowned. “Was it something I said?”
“As if,” Josh scoffed. “This was us testing the waters. A compatibility quiz
without the actual questionnaire. I feel like we can do this and not fuck up
the rest of our lives. Platonic fucking is a shaky road. Don’t wanna fall in
love.”
“Wasn’t that a movie?” Ryan asked. “Mila Kunis or something?”
“I’ll agree to that reference if I’m Justin Timberlake,” Josh said with a
smirk.
“Deal,” Ryan said. “Because now I’m Mila Kunis.”
“You’d look sexy in that robe,” Josh giggled. He sat up on his knees and poked
Ryan’s side a couple times before climbing off the couch. Josh had taken Ryan
back to the sizable apartment Josh shared with Tyler and Jenna. It was really
nice apartment and Ryan really liked it. It obviously had a feminine touch with
soft pastels, mostly a pale blue coupled with white. The furniture was new and
there was a loft that had two bedrooms split by a bathroom. The kitchen and
living room, dining and office turned music room were all downstairs and the
windows were up to the ceiling. Ryan was almost tempted to find a place like
this, but he hated the noise of downtown.
Josh went to the kitchen and grabbed two beers. “Let’s just watch some stupid
TV show or whatever,” he suggested. “When do you have class tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Ryan told him. “So I don’t have class for the whole
weekend.”
Josh lit up. “We should totally go to out and do shit! And invite Ray and Mikey
so they can leave the newlyweds alone. We could go window shopping. Or go to
the park.”
Ryan smirked when an idea dawned on him. “We could help Ray propose to Mikey.”
Josh looked like a kid at Christmas. “Please,” he said. “Fucking please. We
gotta do this. I’ve never helped someone propose. I gotta do this. You gotta
let me do this. Please.”
Ryan pulled out his phone and texted Ray about wanting to maybe get him to pop
the question to Mikey tomorrow. Ray responded with all caps about being
surprised, having the ring, being nervous for months, and on and on. Ryan
eventually got it out of Ray— “we’re helping him propose tomorrow. But that
means I gotta go back and help him brainstorm.”
Josh was bouncing on his toes and nodding vigorously and grinning from ear to
ear.
Ryan paused. “Actually,” he said. “Why don’t you come back with me? Maybe help
me out with Ray. He’s a great guy, he just gets really nervous. And I think
it’d be cool for you guys to get to know each other.”
Josh nodded, still looking very excited. “I’ll grab my coat,” he said, running
off.
Ryan watched him go with a smirk and was happy to realize that he didn’t regret
Josh.
. . .
“I got to talk to Sarah again,” Brendon told him with a wide grin. Ryan had
gotten home and he and Josh had done damage control with Ray. Everything had
died down and Ryan and passed out in Frank and Gerard’s bed because he’d gone
into the wrong room and hadn’t bother to correct it.
“She’s really smart,” Brendon gushed. “Really pretty. She reminds me of my
grandmother.”
“I didn’t know about your grandmother,” Ryan said. He didn’t expect Brendon to
have told him. He wondered how much he didn’t know because Brendon hadn’t
bothered to say anything.
“I never met her,” Brendon explained. “I see her photos around the house. She’s
really pretty, Ryan. She looks like she was really nice. I wish I could have
met her. She died a few years ago, and I hadn’t been allowed to meet her. But
that’s okay. I see the photos enough.”
“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Ryan said because it was what you were supposed to say
when someone died.
“I’m gonna try and kiss Sarah,” Brendon told him with a giggle. “I’m gonna kiss
her. I’ve been trying to go outside when she’s outside. We have to hide behind
trees to talk, but I haven’t been caught yet. It’s so much fun. To go behind my
parents’ backs. I’m making my own day now, and they can’t stop me because they
don’t know about it.” Brendon stared past Ryan wistfully. “I wanna kiss her.
I’m gonna kiss her.”
Ryan shut his eyes to stop the tears and nodded in defeat.
Chapter End Notes
     josh and ryan are not a relationship
     there will be no love triangle
     this is literally fuck buddies
     and that's it
***** Boom, Static, Torn Awake by a Self-Obsessed Maverick *****
Chapter Summary
     proposals and sex and shit, huzzah
Ryan was a prodigy that was tainted by nonexistent guardians, a candle put out
simply with neglect.
He knew that about himself.
He remembered when he was little that he’d he snuck out the sedan his parents
drove and gone into a music store next to the bar his parents were drinking at.
He’d sat down at the piano and had learned to play in one night because the
shop clerk had thought Ryan was the son of one of the persons taking saxophone
lessons.
Ryan had started to sneak into that music store every time his parents went to
the bar to get slammed, which was basically every night anyways, so Ryan
learned a lot. He’d hidden in a corner with a ukulele and played with the music
that was coming from the radio so no one would hear him. Same with a guitar and
a bass guitar and even a standing bass. The standing bass had been after Ryan
made friends with the store owner, an older man who’d taken pity on the little
boy with hollow features and parents that would drive well over the legal
limit. Ryan remembered the way the man would look terrified every time Ryan was
dragged from the store by iron fists that bruised his tiny limbs.
Ryan wished he could go back in time and get the old man’s number before the
man had been shipped away to a hospice by his resentful children.
. . .
Ryan remembered the man as he carefully perused the Guitar Centre he was
visiting for the second time.
The first had been for the Secret Santa three weeks ago, where Ryan had gotten
Ray a new guitar strap since he’d pulled Ray’s name from the hat. The world was
now two weeks into January and Ryan had wanted to come back since he’d first
gotten the strap.
He wished he could actually buy an instrument. A guitar. Ryan wanted to play
again, more than anything. He’d been forced to sell his old acoustic after
moving out of his father’s house. Five years later, and Ryan wanted nothing
more than to buy a new guitar and remember how to play. He was sure Ray would
help teach him. He wanted to be able to play again. He knew it would be good
for his health. A sort of personal therapy that he could definitely use right
now. Just a way to get out his frustrations and fears.
Ryan didn’t have three thousand dollars to spend. But he did have enough for
the Epiphone, Limited Edition, Riviera Custom P-93 in wine red. He got a cheap
black strap with leather ends so they wouldn’t wear and drop the guitar, and
then looked at how much he would need to save for an amp to buy later on.
Ryan went home with a small smile on his face, the guitar in the passenger
seat, and the distinct feeling that everything was going to be okay.
. . .
“Is that Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds?” Ray asked as he smiled, watching Ryan
fumbled his way through playing. Ray had been eager to lend his amp to Ryan,
though Ryan had the volume down as low as he could, too embarrassed to let
anyone else hear him fuck up.
Ryan nodded as he played, concentrating on the strings under his fingers. His
callouses were long gone and the tips of his fingers stung, but he kept
playing. He knew he would break the skin soon. He didn’t care. He felt addicted
to the music, to the feeling of the vibrations under his skin. He hadn’t
realize how much he missed this until he had it again.
“You’re really good,” Ray told him.
Ryan glanced up at him and managed a smile. For all their planning, Ray had
chickened out of proposing to Mikey, from sheer nerves alone. Ryan felt bad for
him. Ray was one of those guys who needed the perfect moment to do something as
big as proposing. Ryan and Josh had shadowed him and tried to encourage him,
but to no avail. And Ryan and Josh hadn’t been alone together since that first
night of lip locking. Not because they didn’t want to, but because Tyler and
Jenna were getting even more successful with their food trucks and Josh had
started to help them out. Ryan kinda missed Josh.
“I think you should play more,” Ray said. “You’re really good. Like, super
good. How long have you played?”
Ryan shrugged. “Taught myself as a kid. Managed to get myself a shitty acoustic
back in my sophomore year of high school. Had to sell it at the end of senior
year. So maybe six years all together with a huge gap.”
“You’re good,” he repeated. “You can do some amazing things. I wouldn’t mind
helping you get the right equipment.”
Ryan tore himself away from the guitar, looking up at Ray, somewhat startled.
“W-why?”
“Because you’re good,” Ray told him with a gentle smile. “And I can tell that
you’ve been really stressed out, and usually you’d go to Josh or Pete or Mikey,
but we’ve all been really busy.”
Ryan grimaced and didn’t say anything, cause it was true. Mikey and Ray had
been looking into Mikey opening a salon and Frank and Gerard were inseparable
and touring the country. They’d left two days ago to go on a road trip. Brendon
was caught up in Sarah, Travis was working on a research project, and Josh was
busy and Ryan had been feeling very alone.
“I’m sorry we haven’t been around,” Ray said softly.
Ryan shrugged. “Everyone copes differently.”
Ray also shrugged. “That may be, but you’re not like us. You don’t have someone
to go to outside your head. I can go to Mikey, Frank can go to Gerard and vice
versa, Josh to Tyler, Travis to… What’s her name?”
Ryan sighed and shook his head. “I’m not even sure if he has someone. I don’t
remember him mentioning anything, but I’m also a shitty person with an even
shittier memory.”
Ray shook his head. “Not that.”
Ryan sighed again and leaned back against the wall. He’d been sitting on the
floor because it was more comfortable while getting used to having the guitar
in his lap. “It doesn’t matter if you guys are here or not,” he said. “I know
you’d be here if you could, and that’s all that matters. Plus, I’m happy that
all of you are doing well. So long as you stop putting off the proposal,
everything will be perfect.”
Ray groaned and hung his head. “It just… It’s never perfect.”
“It’s not gonna be,” he told Ray. “You just gotta do it when it feels right.
Maybe you should stop trying to make a big deal about it? Just, like, keep the
ring with you and pop the question when he takes your breathe away or something
cheesy like that.”
Ray blushed and grinned a bit. “You think he’d like that?”
Ryan nodded. “You gotta get to it,” he said. “You gotta propose before it’s too
late.”
Ray looked upset. “You mean you think he’ll leave me?”
Ryan snorted. “No. I think that he’ll end up proposing to you instead. And
isn’t that a waste of a ring?”
Ray quickly smiled again and ducked his head, hiding behind the fro, though
Ryan didn’t know why he was embarrassed.
“Mikey loves you,” he told the other man softly. “Everyone knows that. And
everyone knows that you’re gonna end up married. I’m not sure I understand the
intrinsic need for marriage that so many people have today, but I’m all for it.
You just gotta get the questions out. You’re guaranteed a yes.”
Ray nodded, taking in, then letting out, a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said. “I-
I can do this.”
Ryan smiled wryly. “I have an idea,” he began, “Why don’t you and Mikey got out
around the city together tomorrow. Just have fun, see stuff, maybe ice skate if
the lines aren’t atrocious. Play in the snow, maybe visit Grant Park. Just be
with him, and when you feel like you couldn’t love him more than you already
do, bring out the ring and ask.”
Ray nodded again. “Come with?” he requested.
Ryan was a bit surprised. “Uh, you sure you want me there?” he asked
cautiously. “I mean, it’s you and Mikey, not you, Mikey, and Ryan.”
“How many times do we have to tell you that you’re family before you believe
it?” Ray asked with a mournful expression.
Ryan chuckled mirthlessly. “Just once more.”
. . .
Ray woke up Ryan the next morning, thrumming with the same nervous energy from
a month ago, though Ryan was drastically more optimistic about the chance of
the proposal happening that day than he’d had last time.
Ryan got dressed in the dark gray pea coat Gerard had gotten him for the secret
santa and the accompanying off-blue scarf. It was warm and snug and Ryan had
been going outside more often than he usually would just to have an excuse to
wear the present because it was far too warm in the house to wear it willy
nilly.
It was more of an effort to get Mikey from the cozy bed he shared with Ray than
Ryan liked to admit. In the end, Ryan had ended up just tearing the sheets off
the bed because Mikey had pulled Ray down for a lazy make out session that had
rendered Ray’s aid in Ryan’s effort to uselessness. Once Mikey was done
shrieking and squirming like he could kick off the cold air, he finally sat up,
then stood, and got dressed with a grumble.
Ryan counted that as a win.
“I can’t fucking believe you guys,” Mikey huffed, trudging through the snow in
the driveway to the car Mikey and Gerard shared. Ray’s car wasn’t entirely
trustworthy in the snow and slush and ice. “It’s dismal out here. Literally
dead. Everything is dead. I want to be dead. Let me go back to bed and be
dead.”
Ray looked more and more discouraged as Mikey continued to complain.
Ryan huffed and shoved Mikey into the backseat. “Gonna act like a baby,” he
said. “You’re gonna be treated like a baby.” He paused, before leaning in to
talk to Mikey in a voice low enough for Ray to not be able to hear them. “Ray
just wants to do something nice for you,” he explained. “And you’re kinda being
a real dick to him about it.”
Mikey grimaced, immediately backing down. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s fine,” Ryan said. “Just, lighten up? For him.”
Mikey nodded and sat obediently. “Sorry,” he said again.
Ryan waved him off and moved Ray into the back to sit by Mikey. He climbed into
the driver’s seat and started the car, not minding being their personal
chauffeur for the day because he knew that this was about Ray finding the
moment and not Ryan tagging along. 

“I was thinking we’d grab some coffee, then see if we can find a hill to sled
down,” Ryan told them, catching Ray’s eyes in the rearview mirror for approval.
Ray nodded and Ryan pulled out of the driveway and headed for the furthest
Starbucks he knew. Ryan enjoyed driving through the slush, unlike anyone else
he knew. The concentration he was required to have helped keep his mind off of
other things and he could really use a distraction right now.
The drive was quiet, aside from Ray and Mikey murmuring to each other in the
backseat. Ryan let them talk and kept the radio off, enjoying the silence of
the car and the sound of the wind outside hammering the vehicles’ sides. He
could feel the wind pushing at car and enjoyed fighting back simply because he
felt like this was the only way he could take on the weather, something that
was usually completely of his control. Ryan wasn’t any sort of control freak
and was rather used to being subjected to the rage of others while being
helpless himself, but he still found it nice to be able to fight back from time
to time, even if it was pointless.
Ryan parked in front of the Starbucks and darted out of his seat, rounding the
vehicle to open the back door with a flourish and a bow. Mikey laughed and
bowed back because he was sometimes rather awkward when it came to being polite
or knowing how to respond to polite people.
Ray watched Mikey flail with a fond expression and Ryan remembered hearing a
girl in his Psychosis and Mental Breaks course say something about only needing
to see how one person looked at another to see visible proof of love.
He believed her now, seeing the way Ray looked at Mikey. Ray took Mikey’s hand
and pulled him into the Starbucks and Ryan followed behind. Ray ordered all of
them drinks despite Ryan’s insistence that he could get his own. Ryan was
pouting when Ray handed him the frappuccino, but he still drank it because it
was delicious and Ryan really needed the espresso to get him through this. Ray
was still frazzled, a bundle of nerves, and Ryan was beginning to suspect that
Ray was going to vibrate out of his own skin.
“This is nice,” Mikey said, looking out the window that their table was beside.
Flurries were coming down, but nothing serious. Enough to merit warm clothes
and only to that extent. Ryan loved the snow but hated the cold because it made
his bones ache and his fingers feel stiff and useless. It made it harder for
him to fall asleep. Though the heat of L.A. had been absolutely stifling, Ryan
found himself missing it with every passing day with a temperature below
thirty.
“Look at that,” Mikey murmured, reaching out to trace pictures into the
condensation of the window. “Isn’t it amazing? The way the whole world just
throws its shit at us and we call it beautiful.”
“That could’ve been really beautiful, but then you ruined it,” Ryan said dryly.
“That’s exactly what your mom said after you were born,” Mikey shot back. He
giggled at his own jab and went back to downing the coffee Ray had gotten him.
“Tastes like cherries, beanie babies, and happiness.”
“What the hell did you put in his drink?” Ryan asked Ray with a grin,
“Love and Asbestos,” Mikey told Ryan with a smirk when Ray fumbled to respond.
He went back to drawing on the window, little snowmen and hearts and a stick
figure with a squiggly head that Ryan suspected was Ray. “Someone should write
a novel called that. Love and Asbestos.”
“What would it be about?” Ray queried.
Mikey shrugged. “Uh, a girl gets asbestos in her house and she has to live with
the guy who’s in charge of getting the asbestos out of her house and they fall
in love and then she dies from the asbestos and it’ll be super sad, but
beautiful.”
“Why can’t it have a happy ending?” Ryan asked, stirring his drink idly with
the straw.
“Because fairy tales are bullshit,” Mikey explained. “And life isn’t easy. You
want a happy ending? You gotta work for it. All that chic did was fuck up in
cleaning her place, get laid from the nearest and easiest guy possible, and
avoid going to the doctor so much that she just died. She didn’t work for
shit.”
“How cynical,” Ray chuckled. “Didn’t know you were so dark, baby.” “
“Maybe you should start drinking your coffee black to match you dead heart,”
Ryan only half-joked.
Mikey giggled and kept drawing.
“You’re dating a psychopath,” Ryan told Ray with a smirk. “How does that make
you feel?”
Ray shrugged, staring at Mikey. “It’s Mikey,” he said. “So that makes me really
happy. Because it’s Mikey.”
Mikey looked to Ray and blushed faintly while he smiled. “Makes me pretty
happy, too.”
. . .
Ryan drove them to Grant Park, though he’d suggested Millennium just because
they had ice skating. But when Mikey protested vehemently, they’d settled with
Grant Park.
“Fucking cold!” Mikey laughed as he shuffled through the snow. “Jesus, it’s so
cold! I can barely breathe!” He turned to Ray and Ryan and tossed some snow at
them. “It’s the great oxygen drought!” he recited, giggling. “Hold your
breathe, do you part!”
“Psych,” Ryan accused, throwing snow back. “You’re such a copy cat! You don’t
know shit. I’m gonna shove ice down the front of your pants. Your dick will
shrink and it’s gonna be adorable.”
“I like his dick how it is,” Ray said, smiling agreeably.
Mikey winked at Ray, then threw more snow at Ryan, though he missed horribly.
“There!” Mikey suddenly shouted. “That tree! Climb it with me!”
Mikey ran off and started to try and climb the tree, clutching it with his
thighs as he tried to pull himself up. Ray chuckled and went to his aide,
helping push Mikey up by his bum. Ryan stood back, then snapped a photo with
his phone of Ray holding a scrambling Mikey up a tree trunk by his butt. Mikey
began to squirm and giggle, wiggling out of Ray’s grip and dropping to the
snow. He scrambled out of the snow and barreled into Ryan, shoving him to the
ground and pinning him.
Ryan shrieked and flailed in the cold, shoving snow in Mikey’s face to try and
get him off. Mikey cackled and shoved Ryan’s head back into the snow, not
letting him up.
“Ray!” Ryan cried out, trying to kick Mikey off. “I’m gonna get fucking
frostbite! Fucking help!”
Mikey was suddenly lifted off Ryan and into the arm, Ray’s strong arms wrapped
around Mikey’s waist. Mikey thrashed for a bit, but ended up just going limp in
Ray’s arms, dead weight throwing Ray off. Ray cried out and fell backwards into
the snow. Everyone was just falling over. Ryan was staring up gray sky with
snowflakes fluttering down into his vision. He sat up and looked to Ray and
Mikey.
Mikey was lying next to Ray in the snow and Ray was holding the ring out in
front of Mikey’s face.
Holy shit.
“Fuck,” Ryan heard Mikey breathe. “Are you… do you mean it?”
“Absolutely,” Ray said. He was blushing and staring at Mikey like he was seeing
the moon, real and once completely out of reach and unattainable, up until this
moment.
“Oh my god,” Mikey said. “Just, fuck. Yes. Always yes. Fuck, fuck-fuck.” He sat
up and moved to sit in Ray’s lap, straddling his waist and bending down to kiss
Ray, completely ignoring the ring in favor of kissing his new fiancé. That’s
how Ryan believed proposals should be. The ring was just part of the question
and shouldn’t be given all the attention. People would stare at the ring on
their finger like it was what mattered. Ryan believed the other person should
matter, and not how much they could afford to spend on some piece of jewelry.
“Jesus, Ray,” Mikey gasped, tearing up. Ryan caught himself worrying that
Mikey’s tears could freeze his eyelids shut. “God, fuck.” He laughed wetly.
“What took you so long?”
Ray laughed too and placed a wet kiss to Mikey’s cheek. Ryan’s heart swelled
and he took a photo, a picture of Mikey and Ray embracing each other with tears
in their eyes. Ryan knew Gerard would have wanted to been here for this moment,
so taking a photo was the next best thing.
“Ryan,” Mikey called out after a moment. “Ryan. Fuck, Ryan, hey. Let’s go to
dinner. Huh? Let’s all go get a delicious, warm meal where I can fawn over my
fucking fiancé and treat him like the god he is. The fucking amazing king,
ruler of my heart and my life, and the man I’m gonna get fucking married to and
stay with until the day they have to put me down themselves, because I’m gonna
live forever with him.”
“Who’s they?” Ray asked with a wide grin.
Mikey giggled. “The illuminati, of course.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ryan drawled, rolling his eyes. “The illuminati are so
interested in you as it is.”
“I know,” Mikey played along. “Especially once I’m immortal. Everyone’s gonna
want a piece of that science.”
“It’s not science,” Ryan said. “It’s fiction.”
“Science fiction,” Mikey shot back. He was still clinging to Ray, their chests
pressed together. Ryan could see Ray was playing with strands of Mikey’s
bleached hair, twirling them round his large fingers. It always fascinated Ryan
to see someone as big and strong as Ray handle someone as skinny and frail as
Mikey so delicately and carefully. The most perfect match of two very different
people.
“I’m hungry,” Mikey said, forgoing the foolish illuminati discussion in favor
of his growling stomach. “Seriously, all this rambunctious frolicking has
starved me. Also the emotional roller coaster of fucking eternal happiness.” He
grinned at Ray. “I fucking love you.”
“I fucking love you too,” Ray said back softly.
“I’m gonna be your husband,” Mikey giggled. “You have no idea how happy that
makes me. I mean, yeah, it’s a fucking label, whatever. But it’s a label that
makes me yours. And just… fuck. I-I don’t have words for how much that means to
me.” He wrapped his arms around Ray’s neck and kissed him deeply. “Fucking love
you.”
“I fucking love you too,” Ray replied again. “And guess what? I love you. Oh,
and you know something else? I. Love. You.”
“Food,” Mikey said. “Or sex?” He pulled back and frowned. “Food or sex? Fuck,
that’s, like, the hardest question I’ver ever asked myself. Food or sex, food
or sex, food or sex…”
“I’m not going to be included in one of the options, right?” Ryan asked with an
arched brow. “And I’m sure you guys know which one that is.”
“Fine,” Mikey said. “We’ll grab you for the sex after Ray and I get something
to eat by ourselves. Or, wait… isn’t that Josh’s job now?”
Ryan blushed and chucked as much snow at Mikey’s face as he could.
. . .
“I’ve been seeing Sarah nearly every day,” Brendon gushed, a light blush
painting his cheek. “She, she’s so pretty, Ryan. She’s gorgeous. Her smile is
amazing, you know? And she’s really smart. She can name all the trees in the
forest and knows most of the birds by the sound of their chirping, and she’s
able to track rabbits and stuff.”
Ryan nodded. He’d been listening to all the amazing things about Sarah every
night and Brendon usually forgot the things he had already told Ryan about
Sarah. This was about the fourth time Ryan had heard about Sarah knowing the
trees and birds and rabbits. Brendon called her beautiful every day, but Ryan
was pretty sure Brendon knew he’d been saying that every night anyways.
“I’ve been talking to my mom,” Brendon continued. “About maybe letting me marry
her. She doesn’t know Sarah, but I’m sure she’s seen her around. Sarah won’t
tell me her full name. She says it’s because she’s playing hard to get. What
does that mean, Ryan? Why would someone want to be difficult to take or
something like that?”
“It means she’s trying to be interesting so you want to know her better,” Ryan
said. He was watching Brendon, he could never make himself look away from
Brendon. But he was drawing in the dirt with his index finger.
“She’s teaching me how to read,” Brendon told him with a grin. “And write. She
says that if I get good enough, we can write letters to each other.”
Ryan perked up. “Does she know where you guys are?”
Brendon shrugged. “I don’t know. I never asked.”
“What do you mean you haven’t ever asked?” Ryan demanded, incredulous and kinda
upset. “If she knows where you are, I can come get you!”
Brendon frowned. “I don’t want you to do that anymore.”
Ryan stared at him, feeling like he’d been slapped.
“I think I’m gonna be okay,” Brendon told him, smiling. “My dad doesn’t hit me
anymore and my mom talks to me sometimes. I think I can be okay here. And I
have Sarah. Who knows? Maybe they’ll let me start going to church!”
Ryan kept staring.
Brendon sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, Ryan,” he said. “I know you really want me
around and stuff. And you love me, I get that. Soulmates, right? But maybe I’ll
be happier with someone who isn’t my soulmate. Like Sarah. If I marry her, my
parents will love me.”
“Why are you so obsessed with that?” Ryan asked, his hands shaking. “Why do you
want them to love you? I love you, Brendon. I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“You’re not my parents,” Brendon said. “Just, think about it this way. What
would you do if you had parents that disliked you? Turned their backs on you?
It would make you feel like a mistake, you know? And you’d want to do anything
you could to be back in their good graces. You’d want to feel accepted by them
at the very least. You have no idea what this feels like.”
Ryan stared and stared. “You’re right,” he lied, voice strained. “I have no
idea what that feels like.”
Brendon grinned and nodded and went back to telling Ryan all the birds Sarah
had told him about while Ryan dug his nails into his skin hard enough to break
the skin and begged to wake up.
. . .
“So, wait, what do I do?”
Josh looked across the bed at Ryan, tossing the shirt he’d just torn off aside.
Ryan was momentarily rendered speechless, because he could never have guessed
that Josh looked this good. He’d filled out in light muscle since Ryan had met
him at the hospital, toned like a swimmer or a runner. Ryan felt like Josh was
the type of guy to go running.
Ryan reached out, fingertips brushing the tan skin, blushing like mad as he
finally wrapped his mind around what they were going to do.
“Ryan?” Josh called out, grinning crookedly. “Dude, you still with me?”
Ryan snapped his head upwards and cleared his throat. “What?”
“I asked,” Josh said. “What do I do?”
Ryan blushed harder and swallowed. “Uh, well… I mean, depends on what you want
to accomplish.”
“Yeah?” Josh hummed and moved closer to Ryan, crawling up his bed till he was
at Ryan’s knees. He smirked. “Kinda want you naked, Ry. Maybe we can do
something about all those clothes, yeah?”
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed.
“Just me. Now take your clothes off.”
Ryan sat back against the headboard and nodded. He shakily lifted his sweater
off from over his head and folded it hap-hazardously, setting it to the side.
Josh snorted and pushed the sweater onto the ground.
“I’ll wash it,” Josh promised. His eyes scanned Ryan’s torso and Ryan, once
again, hated himself for being so fucking skinny. Skeletal and scrawny and
unhealthy. Ryan ducked his head and cast his eyes away, not wanting to see
Josh’s reaction to the way he looked. It wasn’t like it would greatly hurt Ryan
if Josh didn't like him; he just didn’t like anyone seeing him naked, even if
it was only from the waist up.
“Holy shit,” Josh said. “Dude, you’re fucking gorgeous. Like, pretty. You’re
like a Disney princess, yeah? All frail and pale and angular.” He grinned.
“Like Tyler. Man, both of you are so pretty. I’m fucking jealous.”
“Only you could call a man pretty and make it a compliment,” Ryan grumbled,
trying to be bothered by the praise. He preferred pretty as opposed to gaunt
and underfed.
“You’re really pretty, Ryan,” Josh said in a lower tone, more serious. “I mean…
yeah.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss Ryan’s skin, just touching his lips to
Ryan’s neck and collarbone, like he was testing out the waters. “So pretty,” he
kept saying, like he knew Ryan was self conscious and wanted to break Ryan out
of that uneasiness. “I gotta say, Brendon is really fucking lucky.”

Ryan tensed. “Please don’t talk about him,” he told Josh.
Josh nodded. “Sure thing. Now tell me what to do with my dick. What do I gotta
do before I put it in? I tried reading gay fan fiction about Spock and Kirk
before this, but I got the feeling that it was really unrealistic. That, and
you’re not my T’hy’la, so that’s also gonna be pretty different from reality,
I’m assuming. Do we kiss with our fingers or are you not touch telepathic?”
“You’re a nerd,” Ryan said. “You don’t have to do anything because I’ve done it
for you.”
Josh frowned. “What? Why would you do it for me? I thought I was supposed to be
having sex with you. Dude, did you cum already? Are you kidding? Did you just
cheat me out of an awesome orgasm?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan choked out, grinning. “Dude, no. Prep. Preparation. When
fucking a guy, you gotta stretch him out and get him loose. I stretched myself,
prepped myself. All that you need to do is lube up and go as slow as fucking
possible, okay? You’re probably gonna want to just slam in or whatever, but
don’t. I’ll cry. Like a baby. It will not be hot and it’ll definitely make your
boner go away.”
“You’re so weird,” Josh giggled. “Lube, right?” He wiggled out of his pants and
tossed them to the general vicinity of his shirt, then his boxers. Josh grabbed
the lube and squirted it into his hand, then giggled again. “Fucking cold,” he
said. “You sure you want this in you?”
Ryan pulled off his own skinny jeans and underwear. “Rub it in your hands to
warm it up,” he said. “Though I don’t care either way.”
Josh was staring at Ryan’s dick with an almost horrified expression.
Ryan frowned. “What?”
“That’s not real,” Josh said, pointing at Ryan’s half-erect cock. “That can’t
be real. No one’s dick is that big, not for real, you know that, right? Jesus,
that’s, like, eight inches. More. How does that fit in your pants?”
“It doesn’t,” Ryan replied. “Do you wanna get on with it or what?”
“I’m so fucking happy I’m the one pegging you, because no one would I let that
get near my butt,” Josh told him. “Seriously, Ryan. You are never topping. Not
with that thing. That monster. Jesus.”
“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” Ryan was getting a bit impatient and really
fucking horny. Plus, listening to Josh go on about Ryan’s dick was a tiny bit
of a turn on, if only for the attention and the fact that Ryan hadn’t really
gotten off in a way that was satisfactory in what could possibly be years,
since jacking it and thinking about anything but Brendon made Ryan feel like a
sicko.
Josh smirked. “Lie on your back, monster cock.”
Ryan huffed and flopped back onto the pillows. Josh grinned and grabbed Ryan’s
hips, dipping down to kiss Ryan slowly, almost lazily, like he wanted to take
his time with this. Ryan wouldn’t have minded that, but he was undeniably nerve
wracked about this. He’d only ever been with Spencer, someone he’d known his
whole life. Granted, Josh wasn’t some fucking stranger, but he definitely
wasn’t Spencer. Maybe that was a good thing.
“Okay, so, just the tip?”
Ryan nodded and tried not to see the way Josh laughed at his own joke. He
couldn't even imagine what the joke was, since they were literally about to
have gay sex. That was the punchline in the first place.
Then Josh really did put the tip in and Ryan remembered what the fuss was all
about.
“Fuck,” he bit out. “Slower. Slower.”
“Slower?” Josh repeated with a heated look in his eye. “I’m not even moving
anymore.”

Ryan whined and grabbed a pillow to cover his face, embarrassed with
the pain he knew had to be showing on his expression. Ryan had prepped up to
four fingers, so he was a bit surprised that Josh was still wide enough to make
the stretch hurt. He was not used to this.

“Sorry, Ry,” Josh said, his voice tinged with something Ryan couldn’t name. “I
gotta move, fuck.”
Josh pushed forward, centimeters at a time. Ryan whimpered and dug his nails
into the pillow, but was surprised when it didn’t actually hurt all that much.
Probably the head. Definitely the head.
“I can hear you thinking,” Josh gasped. “I feel like I’m doing this wrong if
you can still analyze shit, Ross.”
“Keep going,” Ryan ordered, muffled by the pillow. He pushed it aside and
reached up to wrap his hands around Josh’s neck instead. “C’mon, I can take
you. Keep going.”
Josh’s eyes went dark and he bottomed out with a smooth roll of his hips. Ryan
groaned and arched his back off the bed, digging his nails into Josh’s skin as
he breathed slowly to keep his cool. Josh looked wrecked and he’d barely even
begun.
Ryan grinned a bit. “You okay, Joshy?” he asked in a lilting tone, teasing him,
though he wouldn’t have this sort of control for a while.
Josh growled and pulled his hips back, slamming inside Ryan. Ryan cried out,
eyes going wide in surprise, and from then on, he pulled Josh down so they were
chest to chest and held on for the ride. His brain shut up for the most part
and Josh was too paranoid to pull out too far in risk of slipping out, so Ryan
felt the familiar heat coil in his gut much sooner than he’d expected.
He whimpered and dragged his nails down Josh’s back. Josh chuckled breathlessly
and slid in again, kissing whatever skin of Ryan’s that Josh could get to. Josh
sunk his teeth into Ryan’s pulse point and Ryan writhed beneath him, mind going
hazier.
“Fuck,” Josh gasped, driving into the man beneath him. “Shit, I-I think…”
Ryan moaned and nodded, hiding his face in Josh’s neck. He could feel Josh’s
hips meeting the flesh of his ass over and over and he wanted to write a
fucking novel for how weirdly good that felt. Josh let out this sort of broken
sound of pleasure, the rhythm he’d set stuttering as he got closer.
“Ryan, f-fuck, I’m gonna…”
Ryan tangled his fingers in Josh’s hair and kissed him hard, taking his lower
lip into his mouth and pulling. Josh cried out and Ryan felt something warm
flood inside.
They’d forgotten a mother fucking, god damn, shit-fucking condom, mother
fucking shit.
“God dammit,” Ryan huffed.
. . .
“Have you ever considered, like, the feeling of smoking?” Josh asked. Ryan was
lying splayed out under the sheets, head resting on one of Josh’s softest
pillows, while Josh was sitting beside him, back against the headboard.
“That’s a slippery slope,” Ryan told him, watching Josh. After the condom
incident, Josh had been so apologetic that he’d somehow gotten Ryan to orgasm
three times within two hours. It hadn’t been two hours of constant fucking,
just four random spouts of energy between long spans of lazy lounging in the
bed. Ryan was boneless.
“I’m not gonna become a smoker,” Josh said. “I know it’s a slow suicide, a
leisurely stroll to a metaphorical noose. I just wish I could feel the relief
that people feel when they get the nicotine in their system.”
“I recommend you visit a friend of mine named Mary Jane,” Ryan drawled. “After
realizing that she’d never amount to Gwen Stacy, she quickly lost herself in
the monotony of botany.”
“Marijuana is awesome, but it’s not practical,” Josh replied with a chuckle.
“You can take a smoking break, but not a weed break. You can buy a pack of
cigarettes at any gas station, but you’ve gotta have a dealer for the weed, and
you can’t just buy it from anyone cause it can be tainted and laced with
something dangerous. It’s awesome when you’re smoking, but the process of
getting a constant supply of something you can trust is time consuming,
dangerous, and just plain expensive. Though I will admit, I’m glad we legalized
gay marriage instead of marijuana. And baby steps, right? We’ve gotten one good
thing under the way. I give us a year or two before we do anything any more
radical.”
“You won’t go buying a pack of cigarettes just because you want some anxiety
relief, right?” Ryan asked, admittedly a bit worried. “There’s medication you
can get for that, or even something more natural. Uh, yeah, lemme…” Ryan
trailed off, going through the list of herbal remedies he knew for
psychological issues. “Holy Basil,” he said. “It’s expensive, fifty dollars a
bottle or something like that, but one is effective and works just as fast as
any high.”
“Holy Basil,” Josh repeated. He grinned. “Basil of Baker Street, right? Doctor
Dawson and that one little girl with the last name Flaversham. Did you ever
watch that?”
Ryan frowned in response.
“The Great Mouse Detective,” Josh told him. “It was Sherlock Holmes, but with
mice. Moriarty was a rat named Ratigan. It was really cool, great animation and
shit. My favorite Disney animation. And they were helping this little mouse
girl find her father and there was this robot of the mouse Queen of England
that they used to replace the real Queen of England and it was fucking awesome
because there was this amazing killing device Ratigan had them connected to
that reminds me of Saw.”
“That just sounds like a mess,” Ryan said.
“I’ll give you that,” Josh conceded with a giggle. “It was a mess, at times.
But it was an awesome mess.”
“I’m glad your childhood wasn't a huge fucking disappointment,” Ryan said, a
bit of bitterness slipping into his tone. “Look at you, apple pie and sunshine,
right? You were handed all the right cards and now you’ve got memories about
the movies your parents showed you to keep you under their control.”
Josh frowned. “Why do you suddenly sound like a huge, pulsing dick?”
Ryan groaned and turned his head into the pillow. Good sex made his lips loose.
Josh lied down and literally rolled until his torso was pressed up against
Ryan’s arms. “I’m sensing many layers to this, man. Onion layers. I’m ready for
you to cry, Ry.” He reached out and worked his arm under Ryan’s head. “Come
unto my bosom and tell me your worries, dear child.”
“Calling me a child after fucking me is really messed up,” Ryan mumbled.
“The shits I give quantify to none,” Josh said. “Talk to me.”
Ryan shook his head, though he did wiggle a bit so he could hide in Josh’s
chest. He smelled like sweat and musk and semen and it was kinda fucking gross,
but he just reminded himself to remind Josh to take a fucking shower before
they went anywhere outside this room.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna stick my tongue in your ear.”
Ryan blanched. “That’s sick.”
“I’m sick,” Josh said. “And stubborn. So either you talk, or I get to explore
another part of your body with my tongue.”
Ryan sighed. “It’s something Brendon said,” he finally confessed. It was easier
to talk about this when he could only see the dark of nothing against Josh’s
chest.
“What did Brendon say?”
Ryan shrugged. “He said I have no idea what it’s like to have parents that
didn’t really care about you. And I didn’t really want to argue with him. He
was pretty defensive about things and I just wanted to wake up.”
“Your parents were mean?” Josh asked. It occurred to Ryan that he wasn’t like
the rest of his friends. He didn’t grow up with Ryan, so he couldn’t really
know.
“Neglectful,” Ryan said carefully. “My mother left when I was little and
basically said she didn’t want me. My dad was just… He was a drunk. And he said
some really cruel things to me whether he was sober or not. Neither of them
probably ever loved me.”
Ryan felt Josh slump a bit while the other man began to run his fingers through
Ryan’s hair.
“I didn’t know you had that kind of baggage at your feet,” Josh sighed. “You
know they’re all dicks, right? They didn’t know the cool cat you are. They were
your parents, but they weren’t your family. You get that, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Just kinda sucked that I was so upset that I didn’t even
feel like I could tell Brendon about it. I feel like I have told him about it
before, you know? In the past. Back when he was younger and just wanted to feel
loved and I was there. I feel like I’ve told him about my parents before. I
hope I hadn’t. If I had, I don’t think I’d be able to stomach the realization
that Brendon didn’t remember something so important about me.”
“Brendon’s a teenager,” Josh said.
Ryan shut his eyes. It was a simple and kinda dumb observation, but it also
kinda made a lot of things easier to understand. Brendon was a teenager and
thought he was always right. Jesus fuck, sometimes Ryan felt like that his
years of studying psychology didn’t actually do jack for his ability to
understand the world.
“He’s just gotta figure some things out for himself,” Josh continued. “And you
just gotta wait for him to see that you’re the only person who will love him
like he really wants to be loved. At least, as unconditionally.”
Ryan nodded.
“Ryan?”
Ryan pulled his head back and looked up at Josh.
“Your phone’s going off,” he said.
Ryan groaned again and shuffled back, grabbing his cellphone off the
nightstand. Now he was able to hear the vibration. He saw Pete’s name and
smiled a bit, hitting the green button and bringing it to his ear. “What’s up,
Pete?”
“Ryan?”
Ryan sat up sharply when he heard Pete was crying. “Pete,” he said. “What’s
wrong?”
Pete sniffled. “C-can I come live with you guys for a bit? Patrick and I… We,
we broke up.”
***** You’ve Been Playing With Matches Again, Haven’t You? *****
Chapter Summary
     hey earbudmusic i learned a new acronym
Chapter Notes
     exhaustion: on three hours of sleep over the last 72 hours, you take
     your first shower in 48 hours and forget to take your glasses off,
     but instead of realizing your mistake and taking off your glasses,
     you stand in the spray for a good ten fucking minutes and try to
     figure out why the world suddenly looks so wet
Pete got the next flight into Chicago and Ryan was waiting to pick him up,
alone. Mikey had wanted to come, Mikey always wanted to see Pete, but Ryan had
asked if he could go alone, and everyone else had eventually agreed to the
request. Ryan wanted to get the truth of what had happened.
On the phone, Pete had just cried and babbled about Patrick showing everyone
something, Pete being betrayed, and another thing about publicity? Ryan wasn’t
sure. Josh had been so fucking understanding that Ryan planned on buying him a
cake. He’d gone to the computer, buck ass naked, and looked up flights, even
emailing the link to Pete when Ryan gave him the email address. Josh had made
Ryan coffee and sent him off with a kiss. It was kinda amazing because usually
Ryan would’ve been on the edge of a knife. But Josh was apparently really good
at keeping Ryan calm without saying a word.
Now Ryan was in Gerard’s car at the arrivals gate, looking for Pete with sharp
eyes. Pete’s plane had landed only ten minutes ago, but Ryan knew that Pete
would be desperate to get to a familiar person just to keep himself safe.
Ryan saw Pete standing on a corner with no luggage and messed up, bleached
hair.
Ryan honked the horn for Pete’s attention, then pulled up beside him. It took
Pete a few seconds to actually get his feet moving, and that was when Ryan saw
how bad Pete looked. Gaunt features, his eyes sunk in, pale and shaky. He
looked like a fucking mess and Ryan’s heart twisted as he saw the pain in
Pete’s eyes.
Pete opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “Hey,” he greeted in a
voice that shook.
“Hi,” Ryan replied softly. “We’re going to I-Hop, okay? Get some food in you.”
“I’m not hungry,” Pete rasped.
“Then coffee,” Ryan countered. “I’m not taking you home yet. I want to talk to
you for a bit, okay? Just for a bit. Then we’ll get you home and you can sleep,
alright? You’re gonna stay in my room and I’ll take the couch.”
Pete made a face, managing to look annoyed.
Ryan smirked and nodded. “Right,” he said. “We’ll share the bed.”
“You’re damn right we’ll share the bed,” Pete huffed, staring out the window.
Ryan followed the lines of cars to the interstate, driving slower than he
usually would so Pete wouldn’t have any reason to panic over anything in Ryan’s
control. It was cold and icy and Ryan knew that Pete had to be suffering after
spending so long in the L.A. eternal summers. A winter that didn’t bring snow
wasn’t much of a winter in Ryan’s book.
Ryan pulled into the nearest I-Hop and got them a table. Pete went straight to
the bathroom and, at first, Ryan had been nervous. He had half a mind to check
Pete’s wrists if he stayed in there too long. But Pete came out in less than a
minute with damp hair and droplets of water collected on his face, so Ryan
didn’t see much to be worried about. Pete sat in the booth Ryan had chosen and
smiled shakily.
“H-hey,” Pete greeted again.
Ryan waved two fingers. “Hey.”
Pete looked at the menu like it was the next Nancy Drew novel. Ryan watched
surreptitiously over the top of his own menu, scanning Pete’s features for any
sign to show he was getting worse.
Pete put the men down and put his elbows on the table, looking uncomfortable.
“Aren’t you gonna ask?”
Ryan shook his head. “You’ll tell me when you're ready.”
Pete grimaced. “What if I want you to convince me to tell you now?”
Ryan shrugged. “Then you tell me to convince you, and I will.”
Pete grimaced and ducked his head. “… Am I annoying you?” he asked. “With being
here?”
Ryan frowned.
“I mean, do you wish I was gone?” Pete defined. “Am I, like, a nuisance for
being here? Do you want me to leave? I invited myself and now, in retrospect,
I-I realize that that was really rude and presumptuous of me, and I’m sorry.”
Ryan shook his head. “You need help,” he told Pete. “And we are glad to give
it. Even if you hadn’t invited yourself, I would’ve insisted you come here
anyways. I know Mikey would, too.” He reached across and rested his hand on
Pete’s wrist. “Living nearly two thousand miles away doesn’t mean you’re not
family.”
Pete whimpered and lied his head down on the top of Ryan’s hand. Ryan pulled
his hand away and slid out of the booth, sliding back in on Pete’s side and
wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling the smaller man into his
chest.

“It’s okay,” Ryan promised softly. “You’re home again. We’re gonna take
care of you.”
Pete nodded. “I wanna drown in syrup right now,” he mumbled into Ryan’s chest.
Ryan chuckled and nodded. “Endless pancakes?”
“Endless pancakes,” Pete affirmed.
. . .
“Pete!” Mikey yelled, actually running down the street to where Ryan was
slowing the car down so he could pull into the driveway safely. But it could
only be done safely if Mikey didn’t run headfirst into the vehicle.
Ryan cursed and slammed on the brakes. Mikey slammed his hands on the hood,
then rounded the vehicle. Ryan unlocked the doors. Mikey threw the passenger
door open and crawled into Pete’s lap, kissing all over his face and giggling
and running his fingers through Pete’s hair and showing Pete as much physical
love and affection as he could without getting into Pete’s pants. Pete was
laughing and holding onto Mikey, though, so Ryan wasn’t too worried about Mikey
pushing any buttons.
“I missed you,” Mikey giggled in Pete’s lap. “Welcome home! Gee and I went out
and bought you a cake and we got candles and it says something in icing, but I
forgot what it says, so just don’t worry about that, and we got chips and dip
and a bunch of shitty, five dollar movies, and we’re gonna go to the park and
build snowmen and it’s gonna be awesome!”
“That does sound amazing,” Pete said, grinning, though it was tinged with
sadness. “Glad to be here with you, Mikey.”
Mikey’s excitement faded a bit when he saw Pete’s melancholic smile, but he
didn’t seem fazed beyond that. “We’re gonna order pizza for dinner,” he told
Pete. “And veg out on the sofa. Have a lazy night in and just be stupid
together. Ray got us some beer and vodka and we’re gonna make that drink with
the orange juice and stuff.”
“Sounds awesome,” Pete said, a bit softer.
“Mikey, get out,” Ryan said, pulling into the driveway. “You’re squishing Pete
into the seat with your bony legs.”
Mikey flipped Ryan off, kissed Pete’s cheek, then dropped out of the car and
ran into the house, yelling that Pete was home.
“Wow,” Pete murmured. “He… He really did miss me.”
Ryan nodded. “You’re family,” he said again.
Pete managed a real smile. “That feels… Really awesome.”
Ryan smirked. “Let’s get you inside and see if Walt Disney can soothe some
shit.”
. . .
“What do you mean you didn’t see Hercules?” Pete asked, offended. “Jesus,
Frank, that’s a staple for any kid that grew up in the late nineties and early
two-thousands. I can’t accept this, I can’t accept that your parents despised
you so much that they would deprive you of such an amazing and riveting tale of
love and strength and hope.”
“I never saw it, either,” Ryan said, just because he felt bad for Frank. But
Frank was cackling and enjoying the berating, so Ryan didn’t feel that bad.
“I’m gonna have to educate you, Ry,” Pete said.
“Wait, why are you being so understanding with him?” Frank demanded, still
laughing.
“I like him more,” Pete said with a playful wink.
Frank threw a pillow at Pete’s face to serve as a distraction while he tackled
Pete around the waist, pulling him to the floor. Pete cried out and thrashed
and laughed and Gerard went to Frank’s aid, tickling Pete’s sides. Pete
squirmed out of his shirt and rolled away, falling into Mikey’s lap, begging
Mikey to protect him. Mikey dropped to lie on top of Pete, covering him with
his whole body.
“We are one again!” Mikey cried out in a dramatic, booming voice. “We are one
again!”
“My love,” Pete drawled, wrapping his arms around Mikey’s neck.
“Never let go, Jack,” Mikey hissed.
Pete choked on his own spit and couldn’t stop laughing.
. . .
“Did you know that moss and stuff in the forest grows facing North?” Brendon
asked, lit up and excited about his new knowledge.
Ryan couldn’t bring himself to correct the kid. Moss didn’t grow in any
particular direction, but towards moisture. You couldn’t find your way with
moss, but you could find a water source. Ryan just relied on the sun to tell
him what direction to turn.
“Do you still not want me to find you?” Ryan asked instead.
Brendon didn’t hesitate in nodding and Ryan wondered why he even hoped anymore.
“I’ve been talking to my big sister about marriage,” he said. “She’ll be
leaving the house soon, so I gotta get this stuff from her while I can. I’m
really excited! I hope she convinces my mom to maybe let me start going to
church and maybe then I can marry Sarah.”
Ryan bobbed his head. “Marry Sarah,” he repeated. The sooner he wrapped his
head around the fact, the better.
. . .
“Ryan?”
Ryan groaned and forced his eyes open. He and Pete were lying in bed together
and it was well past midnight, but definitely not early enough for it to be
appropriate for anyone to be awake.
“Ryan?” Pete whispered again.
“Wha?” Ryan slurred, half asleep.
“Why do you have some guy texting you “DTF?””
Ryan paused. “… Is it Josh?”
“Josh D.”
Ryan looked to Pete, squinting in the light of his phone.
“Who are you dating, Ryan?” Pete asked, looking a bit sad. “Why didn’t you tell
me? What about Brendon?”
“I’m not dating him,” Ryan sighed. “We’re fuck buddies. Literally.”
“Doesn’t he have his soulmate?”
Ryan debated on what to say. “… She died,” he said honestly, wanting to be
truthful with Pete to mend any hard feelings for Ryan not informing Pete of
this new part of his life. “She died. He’s okay. He doesn’t have anyone.
Neither do I. We both click and it’s just… It’s something for ourselves.”
Pete nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I never thought to,” Ryan explained. “Just, it’s fucking. It’s sex. He’s a
good friend and we’re having fun together. I don’t know. It just didn’t seem
like anything to write home about.”
“I like how you guys have been saying that,” Pete murmured. “Saying I’m home.
Like, no matter where I’ve gone or who I’m with of what I’ve done, I-I’ll
always have you guys to come back to. You’ll always be here for me cause you’re
home. Just…” He shrugged and Ryan could see he was blushing in the scarce
light. “It, it feels really nice. To know I’ll always have you guys.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “You’ll always have us,” he echoed.
Pete bit his lip. “… Do you know why I broke up with Pat?”
“You broke up with him?” Ryan asked, beginning to frown. Never, in his wildest
dreams, had he even considered the thought that Pete would be the one to end
the relationship.
Pete whimpered and nodded.
“Why?” Ryan had to ask.
“He posted the nudes I took for him online.”
Ryan stared. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Uh, nudes? They’re, they’re naked photos I took of myself, n-naked. One shot
was my in underwear, then one was my chest, then one was just my underwear, and
the other was me holding my dick.”
“No, no,” Ryan said, waving his hand in the air. “I know what nudes are. But
that doesn’t make sense. Patrick wouldn’t post those anywhere. He’s a jealous
fucker, you know that.”
“Well, he did,” Pete insisted, voice cracking with emotion. “He did, and now
they’re out there and it, it’s horrible, Ryan. People are commenting on my dick
and shit and it’s awful because it’s suddenly only ever about my body and not
my music. I want them to hear my message, not see my dick.”
“Are they making fun of you?”
Pete faltered and shook his head. “They, uh. They’re all complimenting me for
looking good and having a big dick.”
Ryan smirked. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” he joked.
“I trusted him,” Pete said, looking horrified. “I gave him those pictures for
just himself! I trust him not to use me, to betray me! I trusted him with the
pictures, with my fucking body, Ryan! I trusted him, and, and he just—”
“Calm down,” Ryan said, sitting up and forward, placing a hand on Pete’s chest,
forcing him to stop talking and calm down and look at him. “Pete, I know I
don’t know Patrick like you do, but I know he would never do that to you. And
he definitely wouldn’t share your nude pictures. He’s a jealous fucker and he’s
really possessive and I can see that just from watching your shows, okay?
Patrick wouldn’t do that. There’s something else going on, I can promise you
that.”
Pete sniffled and shook his head. “I-I can’t believe you’re defending him,” he
choked out. “You guys don’t even like each other.”
Ryan frowned, because, apparently, Patrick didn’t like him. He wasn’t very
surprised by that, now that he thought about it. Ryan and Patrick were two very
different people and sometimes you just couldn’t click with another person no
matter how much you wanted to.
“I’m not defending Patrick, really. Just trying to help you get your head on
straight. Patrick wouldn’t share. He hates sharing.”
“And he thinks you and Brendon are a waste of time, but you don’t see me
telling you to leave Brendon.”
“No, you’re right,” Ryan shot back. “You said your fill of that back in
college.”
Pete’s defensive exterior dropped and he looked away.
Ryan sighed and sat back up, rubbing his face to wake himself up more. “… I
really think you should actually talk to Patrick about this before you do
something permanent that you’ll regret for the rest of your life. Patrick loves
you. And that’s all there is to it, concerning this. Something else is going
on.”
Pete just nodded, keeping silent.
Ryan waited a moment. “You did talk to him, right?” he asked. “You talked to
Patrick. Before you left. Right?”
Pete shook his head.
“Fuck,” Ryan groaned. “Fuck, Pete… Do, do you even…” He ran his hands over his
face. “Either you call him or I call him.”
“Now?” Pete asked in a small voice.
“Now,” Ryan said firmly.
Pete bit his lip and shook his head.
Ryan scowled and grabbed Pete’s phone from the nightstand. He guessed the
password and got it right the first time, 1-9-8-4, and pulled up Pete’s
contacts. Ryan’s heart sunk when he saw that Pete’s phone had been on silent
and he had over twenty missed calls from Patrick, and what could even be a
hundred text messages. A few other messages and calls from Andy and Joe and
some other dude named Zack. Ryan was really worried about Patrick now.
“I’m calling him,” Ryan told Pete. “And I’m going to tell him you’re okay.
Ignoring him like this was a dick move, Pete. He doesn’t know what you might
have done to yourself. He doesn’t know where you are or if you’re even fucking
alive anymore. You can’t fucking do this to people no matter how angry you are,
do you understand me? This is fucked up.”
Pete just rolled away to face the wall.
Ryan left the bedroom and knocked on Mikey and Ray’s door.
Ray answered, looking half asleep.
“Hey,” Ryan greeted softly with an apologetic smile. “I, I gotta take care of
something. Do you think you could send Mikey into my room? Pete’s in there and
I’m not sure if he should be alone.”
Ray yawned and nodded and shuffled back to his bed, nudging Mikey away with
soft words. Mikey woke up and the two men whispered between each other before
Mikey got up and out of bed. He stumbled past Ryan, flashing him a sleepy
smile, before going into Ryan’s room. Ryan could hear Mikey mumble Pete’s name
right before the sound of a body hitting the bed. Ryan knew he would take care
of Pete.
Ryan went into the living room and brought up Patrick’s number before hitting
dial. He didn’t have to wait half a ring for Patrick to pick up.
“It’s Ryan,” Ryan interrupted before Patrick could say anything that he might
have preferred that Ryan didn’t know. “I just, I wanted to call you. To let you
know that Pete’s okay. He’s here in Chicago with us and he’s okay.”
Patrick was very quiet.
“I, I have to ask, Patrick,” Ryan said. “The, the nude photos? Pete thinks you
put them online.”
“I know,” Patrick said in a monotone.
Ryan winced. “I know you didn’t do it.”
“What makes you say that?”
Ryan almost rolled his eyes. “Well, for starters, you visited our high school
one day to ask around about who was eyeing up Pete, and then you shot them all
down, one by one, in person. Told them all that they couldn’t have him because
you already did. Someone that possessive doesn’t just change his mind after
everything you two have been through.”
“Fuck,” Patrick breathed, sounding relieved. “He thinks it was me. I don’t know
why he’d think it was me, Ryan, I, I’d never do that to him.” Patrick sounded
almost like he was crying. “I’d never do that to him, Ryan, I love him, I’d
never hurt him!”
“I believe you,” Ryan said. “And soon Pete will too, okay? Look, is there any
way you could find out who did do this? Who would have access to your phone and
post it.”
“They weren’t on my phone,” Patrick said. “They were on my laptop.”
Ryan didn’t know why this was important. “And?”
“Someone stole my laptop a week ago.”
“What?” Ryan asked. “Fucking really? Oh my god, that’s fucking crazy. That is,
I don’t…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry, Patrick. Does Pete know?”
“Yeah,” Patrick sighed. “He just refuses to accept it.”
Ryan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, that sounds like Pete,”
he admitted. “Look, if you can find out who it is, or at least a way to prove
it wasn’t you, I’d really like you to send it to me. I’ll keep trying to make
Pete get his head out of his ass, and I’ll send you daily little messages on
how he’s doing, okay?”
“Thank you,” Patrick breathed. “Just, I know I was a dick… I’m sorry, Ryan.
Thank you for this.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan said. “Water under the bridge.”
“I’m glad he’s with you,” Patrick said. Then, he clarified, “Pete. I was so
scared, imaging every nightmare, each scenario getting worse and worse. Just,
out of everywhere that Pete could be in the world that isn’t with me, with you
is the best.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “I’ll take good care of him,” he promised.
“Thank you.”
. . .
“I don’t care what Patrick says,” Pete said into his pancakes that Ryan had
made that next morning. “He did it.”
“His fucking laptop, the device with the nudes on it, was stolen,” Ryan
reminded him. “I’m not sure how you’re able to believe it was Patrick,
considering they were posted two days ago! When he didn’t have the laptop in
the first place!”
“Patrick did this,” Pete argued stubbornly.
“It’s almost like you want it to be him!” Ryan cried out.
Pete didn’t say anything.
“No fucking way,” Ryan said slowly, disbelieving and increasingly pissed. “You
fucking coward.”
“I’m not a coward,” Pete mumbled.
“You’re doing this because you’re fucking scared to marry him,” Ryan accused,
seeing right through him. He’d known Pete for years. He knew all about his
commitment issues and manic decisions. He’d suspected Pete was getting cold
feet for a while for a while, but this was fucked up. “You’re a fucking dick,
Pete!”
“You don’t know what it’s like!” Pete shot back, spilling everything. “My whole
life, I’ve been told I only need him and my wits, but then everyone’s expecting
me to marry him! My parents are asking me if we’re gonna adopt! I’m not ready
for any of this, Ryan, I still have a whole fucking world to see! I can’t be
tied down like that!”
“The fact that you view being married to the love of your life as “tied down”
is sick and twisted and fucking cruel,” Ryan seethed. “I thought better of
you.”
Pete scowled.
Ryan refused to back down. “This is fucked up,” he said. “You didn’t hear
Patrick. He was crying, Pete. He was desperate for you to come back to him,
he’s ready to grovel at your fucking feet, and you’re pinning this shit on him
because you’re too much of a fucking pussy to talk to Patrick honestly and tell
him you’re getting wishy-washy about marrying him because you have the most
backwards, messed up, horribly demented view of marriage that merits fucking
counseling!”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Pete said, standing.
“No, you fucking do!” Ryan shouted, livid. “You’re a manipulative bastard and I
can’t believe that you could do something like this to Patrick! I could fucking
kick your teeth in!”
“Fucking do it, then!” Pete defended, standing and squaring his shoulders,
trying to look tough.
Ryan saw red and smashed a coffee mug on the ground, the ceramic shards
blossoming outwards like blood splatter.
“I can’t fucking believe that I’m here, listening to Brendon go on about
marrying some fucking chick, begging and trying to convince Brendon to let me
find him, when you’re standing here! Lying to Patrick to make yourself feel
better about calling off the engagement!”
Pete was beginning to look scared, backing away as Ryan advanced. Ryan could
see Gerard and Ray and Frank off to the side. They also looked really scared.
“Do you even fucking realize how lucky you were to have Patrick in the same
state county as you?!” Ryan demanded, shaking in his fury. “Do you realize how
lucky you are to have that band?! To travel the world with Patrick! To have him
with you, and only you, one hundred percent! Patrick has never been with anyone
else! Patrick watched you fuck around with Mikey! Patrick didn’t say anything
when you made out with that fucking reporter from the last tour! Patrick has
put up with your shit, time and time again, and you’re just throwing that away
because you have commitment issues and no fucking spine!”
“I will be damned before I let you do this to someone as good as Patrick!” Ryan
roared. “I’ll be fucking damned before I let you pussy out on what will be the
best fucking thing of your life! I won’t let you do this, Pete! I won’t let you
do this, I’ll be dead before I let you abuse Patrick’s trust like this and fuck
over your entire fucking future!”
“Please stop,” Pete choked out.
Ryan’s shoulders finally slumped when he heard Gerard sniffle off in the
corner. Fuck, he’d never meant to scare the others.
“You’re going to fix this,” Ryan snapped, jabbing an accusing finger at Pete.
“You’re fixing this. You’re going to tell Patrick the truth and you are going
to beg for his forgiveness and you are going to be so fucking grateful if he
accepts you back within the month. But you are fixing this. Today.”
Pete nodded vigorously. “I will. Today. I’m sorry.”
Ryan huffed. “It’s not me you should be saying you’re sorry to,” he said. “Now
hand me the broom so I can clean up my mess.”
Frank interrupted, in a shaking voice, to say, “you’re terrifying when you’re
angry.”
. . .
“Holy shit, you’re mad,” and Ryan needed to start a list of things Josh said
when he was balls deep inside Ryan.
“Like, shit, Ryan,” Josh gasped, pressing forward. “God, fuck, I can feel how
tense you are just like this.” Josh pressed his palm into Ryan’s stomach, and
Ryan felt Josh shift inside Ryan in a way that had his toes curling. “So
fucking strung up, Ry.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Ryan gasped.
Josh smirked and stopped moving.
Ryan could punch him. “No,” he said, almost babbling. Ryan reached out and
scrabbled for Josh’s hips, trying to pull him forward or move or something.
“No, no, no, Josh, no, please, no, come on!”
“Being such a little baby,” Josh teased, holding onto Ryan’s hips to keep him
from moving.
“This is mean,” Ryan gasped, hips hitching forward to find some sort of
friction. “Mean. You’re a meanie.”
“Either I draw it out and edge you, or I fuck you hard enough to break this
bed, and I’m not big on breaking the bed, so edging it is.” Josh ducked his
head and kissed Ryan. “You’re really fucking angry, Ryan. I don’t want you to
do some weird pain thing about this and make it a sort of person punishment for
your negative emotions.”
“What?” Ryan asked, only half aware of what Josh was saying because he had a
dick up his ass and it felt fucking good.
“I mean it, Ry,” he insisted softly. Ryan wasn’t sure how he was able to talk.
Maybe Ryan wasn’t as good of a lay as he thought he was. “You tend to hate
yourself for anger or sadness that you feel. I don’t want you to make this
quick and violent as a punishment.”
“I’m not that fucked up,” Ryan huffed. “Just really horny. Come on, Josh,
please?”
Josh pursed his lips.
Ryan forced himself to calm down. “I’m fine,” he promised softly, reaching up
to wrap a hand around Josh’s neck. He pulled the other man down to kiss him
softly. “I’m fine,” he murmured against Josh’s lips. “Please, I-I need you.”
Josh nodded and slid back inside Ryan, sliding right across Ryan’s prostate. He
whimpered and trembled, shutting his eyes and letting Josh take care of him.
. . .
“One day, I’m gonna show you the woods,” Brendon said, grinning. “You’re
invited to the wedding, too!”
“What wedding?” Ryan asked.
“The one I’m having with Sarah,” Brendon announced, smiling. “Sarah doesn’t
know yet, but I’m going to propose. I’m gonna make a ring out of daisies.
She’ll love that, daisies are her favorite.”
Ryan smiled and it wasn’t real. “I’m invited?” he asked, finally accepting that
this was his future with Brendon. They’d always have the dreams, at least.
Unless Brendon decided he wanted the surgery to stop the dreams too.
“Yeah!” Brendon exclaimed, grinning, looking very excited. “You will totally
come! I’m sure that my parents will tell me where I’m living.”
“Sarah still hasn’t said?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Brendon sighed. “I’m pretty sure her parents don’t like her either. They
never call her in for meals or anything. They don’t even ask where she is. She
can leave the house for days and none of them will care. So she doesn’t know
either. She can’t tell me.”
Ryan grimaced and nodded.
“I’ll find out one day,” Brendon told him confidently. “I will. And then you’ll
come to the wedding. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”
Ryan smiled wider and nodded. “Amazing.” He paused. “Have you ever thought
about running away?”
“From what?” Brendon asked.
“Your home,” Ryan replied patiently.
Brendon frowned. “Why would I do that?”
Ryan shrugged. “To get where you need to go.”
Brendon shook his head. “I want to know my family. They’ll love me, Ryan. They
will. I have nothing to run from when it comes to them because they will love
me.”
. . .
Ryan was waiting for Pete to wake up. Ryan knew Pete still hadn’t called
Patrick and admitted to what he’d done. Ryan was beginning to get more and more
upset with his best friend, because he refused to let Pete do something this
horrible to someone who loved him so much.
Pete was actually awake, Ryan knew. But he wasn’t opening his eyes because he
didn’t want Ryan to know he was awake. Ryan knew he’d been up for almost an
hour because he’d heard Pete’s breathing quicken as Pete had fallen from sleep.
“Pete,” Ryan murmured.
“Pete’s asleep,” Pete mumbled.
“Pete’s a liar.”
Pete sighed and opened his eyes. “Hi.”
“Why haven’t you called Patrick?”
“Because I’m scared to,” Pete mumbled.
“Why?”
“Because he might leave me if he knows the truth about what I did.”
Ryan paused, knowing there wasn’t a chance of that. Patrick wouldn’t leave
Pete, even if Pete went downright abusive. It was Patrick’s lack of self esteem
and huge abandonment issues that made it impossible for Patrick to even
consider he could find something beyond Pete. Also, Patrick just loved Pete
more than he needed to breathe. And Pete loved Patrick. It could get messed up,
complicated, manipulative and hurtful, but it was still real love. True love
was never perfect because the mind was really bad at loving something beyond
itself. A relationship without problems to work through wasn’t much of a
relationship to begin with.
“You need to tell him,” Ryan said firmly.
Pete sighed and nodded. “Can I invite him here? I think this is something that
shouldn’t be done over the phone.”
Ryan knew that this was Pete’s newest and more creative way of stalling, but it
was also a roundabout admission and he was obviously going to apologize to
Patrick, so Ryan nodded, acquiescing his request.
“Thank you,” Pete said. “… Can you call him?”
Ryan sighed, but nodded again.
“Thank you,” Pete repeated. “Just, I don’t know what I’ll do if I hear his
voice.”
“You’re going to talk to him,” Ryan ordered. “Honestly and openly. And you’re
not going to bullshit yourself out of this just because you’re scared. You’re
going to tell him the truth and apologize. Right?”
Pete bit his lip, but nodded.
“Good,” Ryan huffed. “And don’t you ever do something like this ever again.”
. . .
Patrick took the soonest flight he could back up to Chicago. Ray and Mikey
picked him up because Ryan didn’t trust himself not to tell Patrick what Pete
had done. He didn’t trust himself at all. Ryan knew that the second he saw
Patrick, tear stained and torn apart, he’d tell Patrick what Pete had done to
him and trying and convince him to get the fuck out, or at least rail Pete when
he saw him. Ryan believed that Pete shouldn’t get out of this so easily. He
deserved some sort of punishment.
When Patrick arrived, he had a flat backpack, and was wearing loose jeans, a
shitty t-shirt with stains, and a haggard look in his broken eyes, face gaunt
and lifeless and exhausted. Ryan wouldn’t be surprised if Patrick hadn’t slept
since Pete had left.
Ryan really, really wanted to punch some sense into Pete.
“How mad is he?” Patrick asked Ryan, voice drowning in weariness. “Is he gonna
leave me? For good?”
“Why don’t you talk to him first?” was all Ryan said.
Patrick nodded, then looked at something from over Ryan’s shoulder. With the
way Patrick’s expression lit up and fell at the same time, Ryan knew it had to
be Pete.
“Ry?” Pete called out softly. “Can you give me and Patrick some privacy?”
“No,” Ryan snapped.
Pete came forward, scowling. “And why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t fucking trust you to tell him the truth,” Ryan shot back.
Patrick looked lost. “What truth, Pete? What’s he talking about?” Patrick’s
expression became cautiously hopeful. “Do you believe me now? About it not
being me?”
Pete sighed. “Why don’t we sit down?” he suggested, already moving to the sofa.
Patrick looked between Ryan and Pete with a lost expression. Ryan nudged him
forward gently to get him to sit on the couch. Patrick sat by Pete, and Ryan
sat on the other side of Patrick. He was making it as clear as possible to Pete
about whose side he was taking.
Pete looked away from Ryan, obviously guilty.
“Pete?” Patrick whimpered. “What’s happening? What truth? I-I’m so sorry, Pete,
but you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t put those online. I’d
never do that to you, Pete. You trusted me with those pictures and I didn’t
take that lightly, I don’t ever take anything about you lightly because I love
you and respect you and I just want you to stay, Pete. I need you to stay.
Please don’t leave me.”
“I know you didn’t do it,” Pete mumbled. “Someone stole your laptop. I know
that. I believe you. I believed you. I’d believed you from the beginning.”
Patrick faltered. “Then… then why did you leave?”
Pete looked away. “Because I’m a coward, Pat,” he finally said.
Patrick stared at Pete. “I don’t understand.”
“I lied to you,” Pete made clear.
Patrick continued to stare. “Oh.”
Pete nodded, wringing his fingers together. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I got scared
of other stuff and I lied to you to have an excuse to leave. It was a shitty
thing to do. I’m sorry.”
Patrick bit his lip. “I think I’m going to need more of an explanation, Pete.”
Pete groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m scared to get married,”
he said.
Patrick waited for more.
Pete looked down at his hands. “I’m scared of getting married.”
“But it was your idea. You were the one to propose,” Patrick almost whined,
looking so confused, and Ryan knew Pete wasn’t helping at all with the
quietness and scarce explanations. It was becoming frustrating and Ryan had
half a mind to interrupt and tell Patrick for Pete.
“Okay, uh,” Pete mumbled. “I’m just gonna need you to listen to me for a bit,
okay? I’ve got a lot to say and I know it’s gonna upset you, but I need you to
just listen to me. Listen to me till the end, please.”
Patrick looked nervous, but nodded.
“Promise?” Pete asked.
“Promise,” Patrick replied.
Pete looked up at Patrick and took in a long breathe before letting it out.
“I’m scared to get married,” he began. “Even though I proposed. I guess I liked
the idea of calling you my fiancé, b-but the idea of calling you my husband, of
calling anyone my husband, or wife, is, is fucking terrifying, Pat. I’m scared
of that. It’s gotta be fear of commitment, you know? I’m sure Ryan can explain
it as easy as breathing, but I can’t and I’m sorry. I wish I could explain it.
You deserve better.
“And I know that lying to you was awful of me. Ryan’s been tearing into me ever
since he found out, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I deserve worse. I just, I
didn’t know what to do. I needed to find a way out of marriage.”
“Stop,” Patrick choked out. “I’m sorry, I know I promise, but I can’t do this.”
Patrick was crying, fat elephant tears rolling down his cheeks. Patrick looked
away, hiding his face from Pete. “Why don’t you love me anymore?”
“What?” Pete moved forward, reaching out and holding Patrick’s hands in his
own. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly. “Don’t ever say that. I love you,
Patrick. More than anyone or anything in the whole world. Don’t ever think that
I don’t love you, Patrick because it’s not true and it will never be true. You
have to believe me.”
“But you want to not marry me?” Patrick asked more than reminded.
Pete shook his head. “It’s complicated,” he said, obviously struggling in
explaining. “It has nothing to do with how much I love you, Patrick. I just, I
don’t want to be tied down by a legal document! I hate having a fucking I.D., I
hate having a driver’s license, I kinda just hate being in the system and shit
and I don’t know why, but I do. Marrying someone would be an additional
document they have on me.”

“You wanna be off the grid?” Patrick asked, even more confused.
“No, I just…” Pete sighed. “I love you, Patrick. And I don’t need a ring to
prove it. If you want jewelry, I’d be happy to buy you a whole diamond store. I
can give you gifts and dates and honeymoons. I just don’t think I should have
to marry someone to validate my love for that person. I don’t think I should
have to marry you just to prove I really love you.”
Patrick looked so horribly lost. “Do… you don’t want to marry me?”
“No,” Pete said. “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you. It’s that I don’t
want to marry. It has nothing to do with you.”
Patrick nodded haltingly. “So you wanna call off the wedding, though,” he said
slowly, like he was checking. “Which, which is totally okay.” He smiled
shakily. “I-I just wanna be included in your life.”
Ryan couldn’t fucking believe Pete was getting off Scott-free for this.
“We can call off the engagement,” Patrick continued. He began to pull off the
ring.
“No, no, no,” Pete rushed to say, stopping Patrick. “You keep that on, okay?
That’s not a representative of marriage. That’s a representative of my love for
you. You don’t need to take that off. It’s for you.”
Patrick smiled a bit wider and nodded. “So you’re not mad at me?”
Pete matched his smile and shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Oh fuck,” Patrick choked out, moving forward. “Thank god.” He reached out and
took Pete by the back of his neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss.
Ryan got up. He had to leave the room. He couldn’t handle the way Patrick was
forgiving Pete without hesitation. Patrick deserved a lot better than this
bullshit.
. . .
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Ray said as he ordered pizza online.
“Patrick and Pete made up, you know? They’re happy again and everything’s going
to be okay. Granted, the wedding’s off, but marriage isn’t for anyone. It
doesn’t mean Pete doesn’t love him.”
“Pete lied to and manipulated Patrick,” Ryan huffed. “He deserved to at least
fester for a bit. But Patrick forgave him without a hitch like he was just
blessed to stay with Pete. Like he deserved to be treated like that. Don’t you
see how fucked up this is? That Patrick honestly just considered himself lucky
to be forgiven by someone who wasn’t even mad and was using an awful thing
against him in an even more awful way?”
“I don’t know,” Ray sighed. “I tend not to involve myself in other peoples’
personal lives. It gets messy.”
“I just think Patrick deserved to be upset and Pete deserved to be in more
trouble than he was,” Ryan said. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a dick. Maybe
I’m just wrapped up in other problems and I’m taking it out on him.”
“Doesn’t Brendon want to marry a girl?” Ray asked.
Ryan looked up at him, arching a brown. “Where’d you hear that?”
“You,” Ray said. “You were screaming it, remember?”
Ryan groaned and rested his head on the counter of the island. “Not fucking
fair.”
“I’m sorry about Brendon,” Ray murmured. “He’s a good kid. He’s just confused
about a couple things. He’ll come around.”
“I don’t want him to come around,” Ryan said. “He’s happy, Ray. He’s fucking
happy with this girl and it fucking hurts, but jesus, I want him happy, that’s
all I’ve wanted, I’ve only ever wanted him to be fucking happy and he’s happy
now and I can’t take that from him.”
Ray shrugged. “Maybe he’ll come around anyways.”
Ryan groaned louder.
“Why don’t you go see Josh?” Ray suggested. “He seems to help.”
“Nah,” Ryan said. “He’s helping Tyler around the town with the food trucks.
They’re making a shit ton of money off of this, it’s so weird. And anyways, I
like being around you guys, too. You’re my family. Best friends and shit. And
it’s nice to also know that I’m not expected to have sex with you.”
Ray frowned. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”
Ryan faltered. “Are, are you serious?”
Ray snorted and shook his head. “I’m just fucking with you,” he said. “Which
animation should I have while waiting for the pizza? The rock thing or the
Spanish man of romance?”
Ryan smirked. “Spanish man of romance. Make Mikey jealous.”
Ray clicked on the option and giggled. “He’s baking my order with the fires of
love,” Ray repeated. “With the fires of his heart.”
“That thing is the only reason I order from dominos,” Ryan told him.
“Amen,” Ray said. He closed the laptop, then was quiet for a moment.
“Ray?” Ryan called out.
“I really think you shouldn’t give up,” Ray told Ryan. “I know you feel like
giving up, but Brendon will realize you’re the best person for him. He can fall
in love with someone else, but one day, he will have to realize you are the
best thing that will ever happen to him. People try extra hard to fix
relationship problems if it’s with their soulmates because they know, for a
fact, that there is nothing better out there for them. So I think you should
just stuck around and not give up and wait for Brendon to come around. Which he
will.”
Ryan bit his lip. “I love him, Ray.”
“I know,” Ray said. “Which is why you will wait.”
Ryan nodded. “To the end.”
“Well, hopefully not that long,” Ray said with a grin. “But definitely one
day.”
“Thanks, Ray,” Ryan said. “Thank you.
Ray waved him off. “No problem. Now help me convince Mikey to get out of bed,
because he’s been in there with Pete and Pat so long that I’m worried he’ll get
lost in the blankets and never return.”
***** The Static Speaks My Name, so Fuck That Noise *****
Chapter Summary
     very few people are lucky enough to live happy lives
Chapter Notes
     bam
     this is like two days early
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Hey, Ryan!” Frank shouted from across the street. “Wanna make jesus cry?! This
park is the best homosexual meeting spot in all of Chicago!”
Ryan waited for the crosswalk to say he could go, drink carrier in his hands.
He tried to give Frank the stink eyes from across the street, but it wasn’t
going to work. Frank couldn’t see much from that far away. He couldn’t think of
anyone who could.
Everyone was at the park today, everyone being Pete, Patrick, Frank, Gerard,
and Ryan. Mikey had wanted to come, but he’d opted to help Ray help a friend
move because there were free hot dogs involved, and apparently Ray was some
sort of grand master at grilling. The friend had bribed Ray to come grill for
him while also getting him to help move. Ryan just felt like Ray would’ve done
all of that without needing to be bribed, because Ray was a fucking good person
and that was it. Ryan wasn’t sure why someone was grilling in the middle of
winter, but he wasn’t judgmental of good food.
Ryan crossed the street when the light said he could and tried to ignore the
way Frank was jeering him for conforming, though Ryan inevitably failed.
“Shut up,” he huffed to the short man. “You’ve never even been arrested before.
You haven’t done anything actually rebellious or unique. You’ve maybe shouted
anarchy once while sticking your head out the window. You’re just one of those
kids where when the parent said it was a phase, the parent was wrong.”
Frank snickered and looked very pleased with what Ryan said.
“Hey, Ry!” Pete called out, waving Ryan over. Ryan handed Gerard and Frank
their drinks first. Then he trudged to where Pete and Patrick were standing
together, looking at some bullshit piece of modern art that the park had
smacked in the middle of the trees to gussy the place up.
“It’s you,” Pete said with a smirk.
Ryan looked at the artwork and frowned. It was just three pieces of red metal
twisted together. “How is that me?”
“It’s graceful,” Patrick explained. “And mysterious. Sensual and strong and
independent, like a woman.”
“So, you,” Pete chimed in, grinning.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Neither of you get your drinks,” he snipped, turning
away and walking through the snow back to Frank and Gerard. Pete wailed and
followed Ryan and Patrick just followed Pete. Ryan was still fucking pissed and
that was it. He didn’t have much patience for really anything today. He didn’t
think he would for a while.
“Hey,” Gerard said, nudging Ryan with his elbow as he drank his coffee, a sated
smile on his lips. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, bucko. You’re the jazziest
saxophone on the bridge.”
Ryan’s frown only deepened. “Are you drunk?” he asked just to be a piece of
shit.
Gerard giggled and shook his head. “Frankie rode me good last night,” he said
with a pleased look in his eyes. “Like, like really good. Oh my god, Ryan, I
haven’t blown my load that quickly in years. Just, the way he was looking, like
he couldn’t breathe cause he was being impaled on my cock.” Gerard moaned and
Ryan saw him shudder, and this was awful. “He’s so fucking hot, Ry, oh my god.
I can’t even begin to describe how good that was.”
“Please don’t,” Ryan said. “I love you, Gee, but I don’t want to hear about
your sex life.”
Gerard shrugged. “Well… I kinda want to hear about yours.”
Ryan glanced to him and raised a brow. “You wanna hear about my sex life?”
Gerard nodded. “You and Josh.” He shrugged again. “When you go see him, you
come back looking better than when you left. I know it’s dumb, but I feel like
I’m a bit jealous of him.”
Ryan snorted. “Careful with your words, Gee, or Frank might have to fight me.”
“I mean it,” he mumbled. “You’re, you’re really important to me, Ryan. You are,
and I love you so much, and I wish I could help you like he does. Maybe not in
the same way as him, but bring you to the same end. I want you to feel like
you’re better after talking to me or something. I wanna be able to help you
like he does.”
Ryan sighed and nodded. Pete and Patrick had snatched the drinks from Ryan, but
had thankfully not commented if they’d overheard what Ryan and Gerard were
talking about.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Ryan told Gerard. “I mean, I can’t think of an
actual thing Josh does that helps me. It’s not just the sex, though, I can say
that. And I guess it could be thanks to the pillow talk?” Ryan shook his head.
“I guess it’s just having someone to talk to. Someone who won’t judge.”
“I won’t judge,” Gerard murmured, looking a bit wounded.
“That’s not it,” Ryan rushed to explain, not wanting to hurt him. “I know you
wouldn’t judge me. You’re one of my best friends, Gee, and my family. I trust
you. I just need someone to talk to when he’s around. It’s weird.”
Gerard nodded, looking at his feet. “You can talk to me,” he mumbled. “If you
need to.”
Ryan smiled a bit and leaned against Gerard’s shoulders. “I know.”
“Ryan!” Pete cried out. “Come build a snowman with me! Do you wanna build a
snow man?” he sang horribly off key. “Come on, let’s go and play! I don’t see
you anymore! Come out the door! It’s like you’ve gone away!”
“I’ll deck you,” Ryan said. “I’ll fucking deck you.”
Pete giggled and someone hit Ryan in the back of his head with a snowball.
It was fucking on.
. . .
“We’re gonna go to dinner with Lindsey,” Gerard said with an exited grin, happy
to hang around with friends, probably. They were back from the park because
Patrick and Pete had gotten super cold and started complaining, obviously
unaccustomed to the frigid airs of Chicago.
“You mean the Lindsey that Frank almost ended your relationship over?” Ryan
asked.
“Lindsey?” Gerard repeated. He turned to Frank. “You thought I was with
Lindsey?”

Frank just scowled and shrugged.
“Frank, Lindsey’s a lesbian.”
Frank then blinked, visibly thrown for a loop
“Rats, I didn’t eat my potato on time,” Mikey mumbled.
“Frank, Lindsey has been with a girl for years,” Gerard continued, paying no
heed to his little brother frowning at a raw potato in his hands. “They’ve been
together for almost as long as we have. Why didn’t you tell me that you thought
I was with Lindsey? I would’ve told you what was actually happening. You
wouldn’t have had to worry.”
“I had no idea she was a lesbian,” Frank mumbled.
“I could’a called it,” Mikey said. “This whole time, we haven’t had a lesbian
couple once.”
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Nothing,” Mikey replied.
“I’d like to meet them,” Ray said with an amicable grin. “You should invite
them over for dinner one night.”
“Ray can grill,” Mikey volunteered. “He’ll make some juicy sausages that even
lesbians can’t turn down.”
“That was wrong,” Ryan told him, shaking his head. “Just wrong.”
Mikey giggled and set about to making something else for lunch.
. . .
“Ryan?” Brendon whimpered. “I did something bad. At least, I think it was bad.”
Ryan nodded, moving forward to sit in front of Brendon, who was crouched on the
floor against the wall, looking uncomfortable and unhappy for the first time in
a long time. Ryan was bittersweet about it. While it was nice to feel needed by
Brendon again, he hated to think of what was upsetting him.
“What’s wrong, B?” he asked softly.
Brendon bit his lip, ducking his head, then looking up at Ryan from under his
lashes. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat and he cursed himself for seeing Brendon as
beautiful. Even as an awkward teenager with baby cheeks and crooked tooth and
acne, he was fucking gorgeous and Ryan wished he could have him.
“Ryan?” Brendon asked. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Ryan paused, then nodded. “Absolutely.” he said. “I’m twenty-three, B. And I’ve
graduated high school. I’ve kissed plenty of people, yeah.”
Brendon winced. “Did you like it?”
Ryan grimaced and shrugged. “I mean, some of them. Others weren’t so nice.
Dares and challenges. This one girl kissed me because her friends called her
chicken and then she gagged and told the school that I’d kissed her. It was
stupid.”
“I’ve kissed someone,” Brendon said. “I just did.”
Ryan nodded. “Sarah?” he asked, disheartened.
Brendon also nodded.
“Why didn’t you like it?” Ryan asked. “Did you not want it?” He doubted that,
though. Ryan was sure Brendon would’ve been overjoyed if Sarah had tried to
kiss him.
Brendon shook his head. “I kissed her,” he said, mumbling even.
Ryan hesitated. “Did she not want it?”
Brendon shook his head again. “She wanted it. She asked me if I wanted to kiss
her. I said yes, she, she smiled and said I should. So I did.” He grimaced and
shrugged. “It just, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like it. It felt weird.”
Ryan frowned. “What do you mean it felt weird?”
Brendon kept shrugging.
“You can tell me,” Ryan prodded softly. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can
trust me, okay?
Brendon looked nervous. “Would… would you believe me if I said that I’d wished
it was you?”
Ryan was scared to feel happy about that. “U-uh,” he stammered. “I mean, do you
mean that you wished I was there or something? Or that you wished she was maybe
dressed like me? Or had hair like me?” Ryan was searching for something to
steer his mind away from hope. He knew he probably sounded fucking stupid, but
he was desperate.
Brendon shook his head. “I-I wish it was you.” He blushed and looked away. “And
I’m kinda scared. But really not. Is that weird? Just, I don’t really know. I
love talking to her and stuff and she’s funny and smart and nice and I wanna
marry her, but I wanna kiss you.”
Ryan ran a hand over his face, wondering what he was going to do to convince
Brendon that double timing was fucked up and Ryan wasn’t going to be anyone’s
dirty secret, even if he really wanted to be that for Brendon.
“Don’t lead her along,” Ryan sighed.
“What does that mean?” Brendon asked without skipping a beat.
“It means you can’t keep kissing her if you don’t want to kiss her,” Ryan said.
“Even if she asks you to. And this has nothing to do with my jealousy.”
Brendon’s brow furrowed. “You’re jealous?”
Ryan paused, then mentally slapped himself. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“Why are you jealous?” Brendon asked, beginning to smile for the first time
that night. “Do you wish I’d been kissing you too?”
Ryan blushed faintly. “Look, uh, it’s kinda inappropriate for me to answer
that.”
Brendon giggled. “You do wish I’d been kissing you. I can kiss you here. I can
totally kiss you, here, right now. I kinda want to. Can I kiss you?”
Ryan felt like he was going to throw up in the best way. “Fuck, Brendon,” he
choked out. “You can’t ask me that. It’s wrong.”
Brendon faltered. “I-I thought you said that boys c-could be with boys. Can’t
they?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Ryan assured him. “But I can’t be with you because you’re
underaged.”
“What?”
“You’re not eighteen,” Ryan explained.
Brendon frowned. “Why can boys be with boys and girls be with girls but you and
I can’t kiss because I’m not eighteen? That’s stupid. If I want to kiss you, I
want to kiss you.”
“You’re not legally able to consent,” Ryan clarified.
Brendon actually scowled. “I shouldn’t have to be a certain age to consent,” he
huffed. “I’m fifteen and I want to kiss you. That’s it. Who says I can’t kiss
you anyways? Who made that rule? I’ll bet it’s just someone who got left behind
by someone younger and then they said no one could be with anyone because they
were spiteful.”
Ryan honestly had no idea where the law came from, and Brendon had a good
argument, despite a few flaws. But Ryan probably only thought that way because
the temptation to let Brendon kiss him was almost unbearable.
“I can consent to anything I want,” Brendon said with a frown. “And I want to
kiss you.” Brendon actually moved forward, staring at Ryan’s lips with intent.
Ryan whimpered and pushed himself back, shaking his head. “I can’t, Brendon.”
“But I want to,” Brendon whined. “Please, Ryan. I know you’ll feel better than
Sarah. And I know you’ll taste better too. She tasted okay, like mint and
stuff, but I didn’t like it. I know you’ll taste better, Ryan, please let me
kiss you?”
Ryan kept shaking his head, hands trembling. “Don’t make me push you away,” he
begged.
“You wanna kiss me,” Brendon said confidently, still trying to press forward.
“You said you were jealous, I heard you. You’re jealous, Ryan, and you want to
kiss me, so just kiss me. It’ll be good for both of us.”
Ryan whimpered and shook his head. He wasn’t going to push Brendon away, he
couldn’t bring himself to do that. But Ryan couldn’t let himself kiss this kid,
because he was a fucking kid. He wanted to kiss Brendon so much, fuck, he
wanted to kiss him and hold Brendon and just drown in his soulmate. He wanted
to kiss Brendon so much that he could cry, he fucking needed to kiss Brendon,
but he couldn’t let himself.
“I can’t,” he choked out. “I can’t.”
Brendon sat back and scowled. “I’m waking up,” he said.
. . .
Ryan woke up and started crying.
. . .
“Ry,” Mikey murmured, curled up beside Ryan. Ryan had been crying hard enough
to be heard, and everyone had approached the living room sofa Ryan was sleeping
on to give Pete and Patrick his bed. “Ry, baby, it’s okay,” he told him softly.
Ryan had pushed everyone away but Mikey. He just wanted Mikey right now.
“You gotta tell me what happened,” Mikey insisted. “I can’t help you if I don’t
know what’s wrong.”
Ryan shook his head, hiding in Mikey’s chest, the blanket pulled up over his
ears.
Mikey sighed and wrapped an arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “Whatever it is,” he
said. “It’ll be okay. Whatever Brendon did will be okay. It’s gotta get better
soon, Ry, it’s been bad for so long. It has to get better soon.”
Ryan shook his head again.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Mikey said. “I’m really, really sorry.”
. . .
“You know what I want to say,” Pete said the next morning. Ryan was too tired
to be upset.
“He’s no good for you, Ryan,” Pete continued. “He’s gonna tear you apart. More
than he already has. You should really drop him. I mean it. Before it kills
you.”
Ryan ignored him and focused on breathing.
. . .
“He wanted me to kiss him,” Ryan told Gerard softly as he dried his hair. Frank
had suggested a long shower to feel more alive. It hadn’t worked, but Ryan was
happy to have something to do. He had now accepted that Brendon could send him
spiraling into the worst depression with a single word.
“Did you?” Gerard asked. He was holding two cups of apple cider that Ray made.
Everything Ray touched turned to gold.
Ryan shook his head, folding the towel and putting it in the dirty bin. “I
couldn’t,” he said. “He’s a kid, Gee. I couldn’t kiss him.”
“But you wanted to.”
Ryan grimaced and nodded. “I really wanted to.”
Gerard shrugged. “Then you should’ve.”
Ryan looked at him, a bit shocked. “Gerard,” he said. “He’s fifteen.”
“And?” Gerard asked. “You’re gonna end up with him anyways. I don’t see what
the problem is. He’s your soulmate, Ryan. You’re gonna do more than kiss him.”
Ryan blushed and shook his head frantically. “D-don’t talk about that,” he
whimpered. “Don’t, Gerard. Please don’t. He, he’s a kid. He deserves better.”
“What?” Gerard asked, looking bewildered. “Ryan, he’s gonna be an adult soon.
Jesus, fuck, what if he wants sex and you can’t give it? What have you done to
yourself? Brendon’s only a kid now, Ryan, but one day you’re gonna be with him
and what if you can’t get it up? What if you’ve destroyed sex between you and
him?”
“I’m going to throw up,” Ryan choked out, actually ill. “I’m gonna throw up.
Please stop.”
Gerard sighed and shook his head, refusing Ryan’s plea. “No. We need to talk
about this.”
Ryan stumbled from the room, not looking back.
. . .
Ryan ended up leaving the house and walking into the middle of the city. He sat
on the curb and didn’t care about the looks everyone passing him was sending
him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe past the panic in his chest. Everything
with Brendon had suddenly fallen apart and it was Ryan’s fault, because Brendon
was finally beginning to give Ryan what he really wanted and Ryan couldn’t
handle it.
Someone stepped on Ryan’s hand and didn’t apologize. Ryan debated walking into
traffic or just waiting for someone to murder him. He wanted to be killed or
shot or at least knocked out for a few weeks so he could just forget all of his
problems.
Ryan turned his face up to the gray sky and shivered in the cold because he
hadn’t gotten a jacket and there was still snow-turned-slush on the ground.
Ryan was over winter. He wanted the cold to melt away into something warmer,
even though warmth was relative in Chicago. Ryan just wanted to move his
fingers without pain and go outside without the wind piercing his skin like
knives and burning his eyes with frigid ice in the air. Ryan wanted out of this
fucking city. He’d never wanted out of Chicago before. Now he couldn’t stand
this place.
Ryan pulled out his phone and called Josh.
“Hey,” Josh answered, picking up almost immediately. “I got a text from Mikey
saying you’re missing. Where are you? I’m gonna find you. Do you have that
tracking thing on your phone? I’ll pick you up and bring you over and we’ll
fuck and eat shitty food and then fuck again and maybe take a shower and then
fuck in the shower. It’ll be awesome. Tell me where you are, Ry, I’ll take care
of you.”
Ryan laughed, but it was strangled by a sob. “Thank you,” he barely got out.
“Don’t even think of mentioning it,” Josh said. “Where are you?”
Ryan took in a shaking breathe and told Josh the stores he was nearby. Josh,
true to his word picked Ryan up in one of Tyler’s food trucks. Tyler’s business
was apparently titled Civil Planet Street Food and sold Mexican-oriental hybrid
breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Ryan climbed into the front with Josh and started
laughing laughing with no explanation. Josh had looked worried, and maybe a
little creeped out, but hadn’t said anything. Josh drove aimlessly through the
city and probably waisted a lot of gas, but the quiet of the truck and the
company of Josh with the city lights was what Ryan needed to pull himself back
together.
“I think Gerard is kinda a dick to say you should have kissed him,” Josh told
Ryan as they stared at the Chicago Bean from the parking lot, watching tourists
take their photos in the night and locals seeing how nasty they could get
without getting caught. “Just because Brendon wanted it and said he was ready
doesn’t mean you were ready.”
That made sense in a way that confused Ryan. He let out a little noise of
question, wanting Josh to explain if he could.
“There’s a difference between wanting something and being ready for something,”
Josh sighed. “Just because I really, really want to visit Debby’s grave doesn’t
mean I’m ready to. You might want the job promotion, but that doesn’t mean
you’re ready to actually survive and even excel in that job. Maybe you wanted
to kiss Brendon, but you weren’t ready for it. You’ve spent how many years
trying to help this kid? It takes a lot of time to go from a protector to a
romantic interest and even a lover, Ryan. And that’s not a bad thing.”
“Gerard was worried I wouldn’t even be able to make that transition,” Ryan
mumbled. “What if he’s right?”
Josh shrugged. “Then you can’t do it. So what?”
“How fucked up would it be if I could easily have sex with you, but not my own
soulmate?”
“I mean, it might be a little weird,” Josh reasoned. “But love is love. You
don’t need sex for love. Sex can happen without love, so love can happen
without sex. It’s a two way street.”
Ryan nodded, staring at the night. “I love you, Josh,” he said. “Not in the
romantic way. I know that that’s not your thing or my thing. Just, you’ve
quickly become one of the most important people in my life, and even my best
friend. I just, I want you to know that I love you. And everything you've done
for me, I’d do for you too.”
Josh was grinning a bit to himself. “My dick is hard now.”
Ryan groaned, but chuckled, rubbing his eyes and smiling. “Ever had your dick
sucked by a man?”
“I’d like to,” Josh said, starting the engine, excited.
Ryan felt like everything was going to be okay when Josh reached across
silently to hold Ryan’s hand over the middle console.
. . .
Josh pulled Ryan to the bathroom to take a shower immediately upon arriving at
Josh’s home. At first, Ryan had tensed and prepared himself to get on his knees
and suck Josh off like he’d promised, but Josh actually pulled Ryan back up
when he’d initially dropped to the tub floor.
“We’re just taking a shower,” Josh chuckled. “Not everything is about sex,
jesus. You’re so obsessed with my dick, Ry. That’s adorable.”
Ryan hadn’t argued or anything. He’d just melted into the gentle touches Josh
used to clean Ryan’s body and hair and it was really nice, to be cared for like
this. He was tempted to ask for this more often, but he was also nervous that
he would annoy Josh if he did. Ryan decided to enjoy this instead and not focus
on anything else.
“You know, I’ve never actually looked at you,” Josh said with a smirk. “I mean,
actually looked. Like, taken the time to just see your body and feel it. You’re
really fucking pretty, Ryan.”
Ryan blushed and looked away, to the shampoo behind Josh. “Just me,” he
mumbled.
“And just you is just awesome,” Josh giggled. “You’re prettier than most girls.
And you have the cutest nose, oh my god. And your wrists, Ryan.” Josh reached
out and gently held Ryan’s wrists in his calloused hands. “They’re so frail. So
tiny, so fucking cute. Everything about you is big, you know? In a good way.
But your wrists are so small and I fucking love it.” He smirked a bit. “Makes
me want to tie them to the headboard and kiss the bruises.”
Ryan blushed harder. “Josh,” he whimpered, still shaking from the emotional
roller coaster. “F-fuck, please, Josh. D-don’t leave me?”
“Never,” Josh promised, cradling the back of Ryan’s head with one hand and
pulling Ryan in for a loving kiss that made Ryan’s chest clench. He didn’t have
words for how fucking grateful he was to have Josh. “I know you don’t get it,
but you’ve become really important to me too, Ryan. You’ve done a lot for me
and you mean a lot to me. You were the first person I’d ever actually talked to
about Debby after it happened. You were the only person I expressly spoke about
it with. The first person that I felt like I could talk to when it came to
death.”
Ryan nodded, leaning against Josh and rubbed his sides to encourage him.
“Just, you were smart,” Josh sighed. “And you had this look in your eyes that
was familiar, but only recently. Since Debby died, I started seeing something
different in my face whenever I saw my reflection. And I’d only seen my face
once or twice in that hospital before you arrived.” Josh shrugged. “You just
seemed like someone I should know. And I’m glad I did talk to you. And kept
talking to you.” He smirked a bit. “You’re probably not the type of person to
go after people. So I had to go after you.”
Ryan smiled crookedly. “Not used to people wanting to know me,” he said.
“Though I am used to being the go-to partner in class for research and shit.”
“You’re the most desirable man in the world!” Josh exclaimed in a booming,
dramatic voice.
Ryan giggled and shoved his chest back, heart feeling lighter the more Josh
talked. “Thank you, Josh,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” Josh replied softly.
. . .
“This is the first time I’ve ever made waffles naked,” Josh said.
“First time cooking, first time cooking naked, or first time cooking waffles?”
Ryan asked.
“First time cooking waffles,” Josh said with a smirk. “I’ve cooked naked and
shit before, though never with a buddy.” He reached over and slapped Ryan’s
ass, but missed partially and ended up slapping half of Ryan’s thigh too. “What
a sexy buddy.”
“You had flour on your hand,” Ryan griped, narrowing his eyes down at the hand-
shaped flour on half his ass. Ryan tried to pat it away with his own hand.
“Oh my god, yes,” Josh moaned.
Ryan looked up and arched a brow when he saw Josh was staring at his ass.
“Dude, you were slapping your own butt,” Josh said. “It was fucking sexy. Do it
again.”
“No,” Ryan chuckled.
“Please?” Josh asked.
“No,” Ryan said again. “Really, Josh, no. It’s a butt. Just a butt.”
“Just a butt?” Josh repeated, looking offended. “Just a butt! You have the
nicest butt ever, jesus, Ryan, don’t you dare judge the butt. I wanna touch
your butt.” Josh reached out with the intent to touch Ryan’s ass, but Ryan
slapped his hand away. “Lemme touch your butt,” Josh said. “I want very little
in life and I just want to touch your butt.”
“You’ve fucked my butt,” Ryan said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Never,” Josh replied with a vehement shake of his head. “It’s never enough.
Not when I’m faced with a booty like yours.”
Ryan grinned a bit, kinda pleased with the compliments. It made him feel a
little better, bit by bit.
“When we’re done making these awesome pancakes, you and I are gonna go to bed
and get some sleep, some actual sleep. No sex. We don’t always need sex.” Ryan
was relieved to hear Josh continue to insist that sex wasn’t the only part of
the relationship they now had. “You and I are just gonna saw some logs and wake
up late tomorrow evening. When do your classes start again?”
“They started a few weeks ago,” Ryan mumbled. “Can’t really bring myself to
care all that much these past semesters.”
“That’s no good,” Josh said. “You’re almost done.”
“Two years to go,” Ryan sighed. “It’s hard, though. I’m still going, I’m gonna
graduate a year earlier than most people manage with a doctorate. It’s just
difficult. Back when I started, I had something to fight for. But now… Now it’s
all I mess. Murky water and acid rain. I don’t know what I’m fighting for
anymore.”
“Aren’t you fighting for Brendon?” Josh asked.
Ryan shrugged. “He doesn’t want me to fight for him,” he sighed. “He just wants
me to be his kissing friend while he marries Sarah.”
“Oh, wow,” Josh groaned. “That’s fucked up. He’s a two-timing cheat.”
“Only because he doesn’t understand,” Ryan reasoned. “He doesn’t know that
something like that is wrong. He just wants to marry Sarah and kiss me because
those two separate things make him happy.”
“He sounds like he wants Sarah more,” Josh observed softly.
Ryan nodded. “I guess I tend to forget that when you see two people married,
you’re just seeing two best friends with the same last name.” He sighed. “Sarah
is someone he wants to live with. I’m just someone he wants to kiss.”
“How innocent is that?” Josh wondered aloud. “He just wants to kiss you. That’s
the extent of his knowledge of romantic intimacies. That’s kinda adorable.”
Ryan smiled a bit and shrugged. He agreed. “He’s got a pure heart for a kid
who’s seen a lot of darkness.”
“He hasn’t given up,” Josh said. “Neither should you.”
Ryan sighed, then nodded, knowing Josh was right.
“Ryan?” Josh called out. “I burnt the waffles.”
. . .
Brendon tried to kiss Ryan again that night. When Ryan pushed him away, Brendon
woke them up again. Ryan wasn’t sure if that meant Brendon didn’t sleep the
rest of the night, or if Brendon had somehow figured out a way to keep Ryan
from his dreams. Either way, Ryan just felt sick.
Josh had woken up when Ryan had started trembling as he cried. The crying ebbed
into soft moans as Josh tried to kiss and stroke away all the pain, and Ryan
was grateful. He wanted to feel normal again.
. . .
“I have weed,” Tyler said when he came home the next day from the trucks with
Jenna riding his back. Apparently Tyler had carried her up the stairs, which
made Ryan smile a bit. He had a feeling that Tyler and Jenna were probably
gonna want Ryan to maybe skedaddle so they could have fun. “Lots of weed,”
Tyler continued. “And chocolate.” Jenna was holding bags over Tyler’s
shoulders.
“Lots of chocolate,” Jenna chimed in. “We actually bought one of those special
pots for melting chocolate and then we got marshmallows and bananas and wafers
and strawberries and all this awesome stuff. We’re gonna melt the chocolate and
dip stuff and be so fucking fancy.”
“Ryan’s invited,” Tyler said before Ryan could even think to grab his jacket
and offer to leave. “Ryan is basically the third couch in this house.”
“We have three couches,” Josh reminded him.
“Stellar observation,” Tyler congratulated dryly. “Ryan can melt into the
leather one, then. That thing gets so hot. I hate sitting on it in shorts.
Maybe Ryan can make it more comfortable for me.”
“I’m too tired for banter,” Ryan mumbled.
Jenna flopped onto the couch from Tyler’s back and opened her arms for Ryan.
“Come rest upon my bosom.”
Tyler let out this sound and lied down on top of Jenna in a ridiculous way that
kinda looked like a sea lion. “No resting on this girl’s bosom,” Tyler chided.
“It’s my bosom. These mammaries are mine-aries.”
“I just fell in love with you again for that,” Jenna giggled.
Ryan was suddenly lifted from behind. He cried out sharply in surprise as Josh
pulled him into his chest and Ryan’s feet off the ground. Ryan squirmed and
tried to shimmy out of Josh’s grip, too tired and confused to ask Josh what he
was doing. He just kept letting out little noises of puzzled terror.
“I’m trying to be as cute as they are,” Josh told Ryan, kissing his cheek.
“Don’t fuck this up for me.”
“Josh,” Ryan whined, kicking his feet. “Lemme go!”
“Never!” he crowed before dropping Ryan onto the sofa next to Tyler. Josh lied
on top of Ryan just like how Tyler was on Jenna, and then started tickling
Ryan’s sides by jabbing his fingers into Ryan’s ribs. Ryan shrieked and writhed
and tried to escape by sliding down the leather couch. His shirt hiked up and
bunched under his armpits and Josh cackled before pinching Ryan’s nipples. Ryan
squeaked and reacted harshly, accidentally kneeing Josh in the balls.
“Oh sweet Mary, mother of jesus,” Josh groaned as he dropped to the floor and
curled into the fetal position.
Tyler was laughing so hard that he was choking on the air between gasps. Jenna
had a throw pillow covering her face, so Ryan didn’t know if she was laughing
with Tyler. Ryan just felt really bad for hurting Josh.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I can kiss it better?”
“I can’t breathe,” Josh slurred. “Breathing. Help.”
“I’m really sorry,” Ryan said, crawling onto the floor and reaching out,
wanting to help if he could.
“Is this cause I keeping forgetting condoms?” Josh asked in a wheeze. “If it
is, I’m sorry.”
“I really don’t mind,” Ryan said.
“You don’t mind?” Tyler repeated. “Dude, you don’t mind having his cum in your
ass? That has to be so gross.”
“Not any grosser than having your cum in me,” Jenna said.
“You hate when my cum is in you,” Tyler shot back.
“Touché,” Jenna hummed.
“I really don’t mind,” Ryan said again, a bit louder so Tyler and Jenna would
take him seriously. “It’s pretty easy to clean out once you get the hang of it
and it’s, it’s nice.” Ryan blushed, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m weird,
aren’t I.”
“So weird,” Josh snorted. “It’s awesome.”
“You like weird things?” Ryan asked almost shyly. He wasn’t sure when Josh’s
opinion suddenly started to matter so much, but he wasn’t surprised that it had
happened. Repeated sex meant you were psychologically guaranteed to become more
invested in the other person wether you wanted to or not. It was just how the
brain worked with the body when it came to trust.
Josh grinned and finally sat up normally. “I like you,” he said with a cheesy
smile and a wink.
Ryan blushed, then snorted and nudged Josh with his foot.
“Don’t reject me!” Josh wailed loudly. “I’ll make you melted chocolate! Pour it
all over your body and lick it off you.” He moaned wantonly, playing it up.
“Your cock will taste so good like that, baby.”
“You’ve never gotten your lips anywhere near my cock,” Ryan scoffed.
“God, this is fascinating,” Tyler said. “I don’t know why, but suddenly I’m
really fucking curious how you guys work. I’ve only made out with a dude once.”
“Me,” Josh said proudly.
“On a dare,” Tyler said with a smirk.
“It was Tyler’s first kiss too,” Josh described. “He was so shy and blushing
the whole time.”
“Shut up, dick,” Tyler chuckled. “It was your first kiss too.”
“It was magical,” Josh moaned. “Under the fluorescent lights of our school
cause we snuck in for the party. The romantic sounds of the kids in our
freshman History class laughing and taking photos with their flip phones and
jeering. The cool touch of my first beer in my hand.”
“You remember that way too well,” Tyler said. “Is there something you wanna
tell me?”
“Tyler? Josh called out softly. “I wanna have your baby.”
“Thank god, because I’m not giving birth,” Jenna giggled. “Fuck that.”
Have you seen the pictures of your organs while you’re pregnant?” Josh cut in.
“It’s all crushed together! How the fuck do you survive that? I don’t think
it’s worth it. We can grow them in tubes so why the hell are our women still
risking their lives with pregnancy and birthing?”
“Aw,” Jenna cooed. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“Are we gonna melt the chocolate or what?” Tyler asked.
Ryan perked up. He’d been content to just sit and listen to the friends talk
and reminisce, but the chocolate also sounded really nice. He really felt like
something tasty would help him get his thoughts together. Not actually, Ryan
just really wanted chocolate.
“C’mon, Ry,” Josh said, lifting Ryan to his feet. He kissed Ryan’s cheek before
heading to the kitchen, and Ryan really appreciated these little gestures of
comfort that Josh was giving him. Then Tyler was kissing Ryan on the cheek,
which was weird, and even Jenna kissed his cheek. Ryan blushed and followed
them into the kitchen, kinda speechless, but really touched.
“Let’s melt this shit!” Josh cheered, opening the chocolate packets with very
little care. Jenna put the melting pot on the stove and started the heat,
humming softly under her breath and even swaying her hips a bit like she was
dancing. Ryan leaned against the counter and smiled to himself as he imagined
the first time he would make a meal with Brendon.
He’d probably teach Brendon how to make the perfect PB and J first. Or maybe
pasta. Ryan wasn’t sure if Brendon knew how to make anything, but he assumed
Brendon would know some basics since Ryan figured that Brendon’s parents
refused to cook for him. Ryan wondered if Brendon would like sweets. As Ryan
watched Josh get crazy with breaking the chocolate, Ryan wonder if Brendon had
ever tasted chocolate. He hoped so. But even if he hadn’t, Ryan was excited to
introduce Brendon to chocolate.
“What am I doing?” Ryan asked himself brokenly. Ryan brought a hand to his face
and his fingertips came back wet.
“Ryan?” Jenna asked worriedly, brow knit up. Josh and Tyler both looked back
and frowned when they say Ryan was crying. Ryan’s breathing hitched and he
hiccuped before sobbing, covering his face with his hands, mortified. He slid
to the floor, sitting on the tile, crying uselessly. He was too tired to handle
these emotions.
Tyler sat next to Ryan on the floor and pulled him into his chest. Ryan could
see that Tyler was looking up at Josh with a sort of resigned sadness, like
they knew they couldn’t help. Ryan was fearful of annoying them with his
endless problems.
“I’m scared of m-making you guys hate me,” he hiccuped, trembling. “I’m s-s-
scared of b-being annoying and b-bothering you guys and m-making you hold a
grudge against me and ww-wish I was gone.”
“No, hey,” Josh said softly, sitting in front of Ryan. Ryan felt Josh take his
hands while Tyler held him tighter.
Ryan kept going. “I don’t know w-what’s happening to me. I j-just hate myself,
I hate my p-problems, and s-sometimes I just…” Ryan trailed off, looking away.
“You just what?” Tyler asked in a low voice.
Ryan shuddered. “I-I kinda wanna die,” he admitted in a whisper.
Tyler’s grip tightened to the point to bruising. Ryan winced.
“I’m gonna ask you not to do that,” Tyler murmured. “And I’m gonna tell you
why.”
“Ty, hey,” Josh interrupted. “You don’t have to. I can talk some sense into
Ryan, you don’t have to tell h—”
“I had a brother,” Tyler murmured. “I had three siblings, actually. Zack, Jay,
and Madison. We were all pretty close, but we had our tiffs like all siblings
do. My dad’s a principle and my mom works, so they were gone a lot. They still
are. Zack and I were closest. We shared a room for a long time and I was always
proud to call him my brother, and I liked him more than a lot of my friends.
When I dreamed with Jenna, I went to meet her. Josh came along because Debby
hadn’t wanted to get together yet so she could finish her plans to go to
college without getting distracted.”
Ryan looked to Josh, whose head was hung, and felt some sort of resentment
towards Debby. She could have worked harder and compromised to have Josh in her
life, in person. Josh had never met her because Debby was being self centered.
“I left for Chicago with Josh and I found Jenna,” Tyler said softly. “Zack
never really mentioned finding his girl. I’d asked him why I couple times, but
he always had sidestepped the conversation. I’d always thought that I’d known
my brother better than anyone else.”
“Tyler,” Josh warned softly.
“One day, while I was in the shower, I missed a phone call from Zack,” Tyler
continued, not even looking to Josh to show that he’d heard him. “I got out of
the shower not five minutes later and called him back, but he didn’t answer.
There was a voicemail. I didn’t listen to it because I missed the notification.
I checked my phone again a while later and saw the voicemail and listened to
it.”
Tyler paused. “It was Zack,” he said softy. “Telling me that he was gay. That
he couldn’t be with his soulmate because he was gay. Then he told me that he
loved me and that it wasn’t my fault. My mom called me an hour later and told
me that he’d shot himself.”
Ryan felt cold.
“I don’t know how it happened,” Tyler murmured like he was in a dream. “I’d
always thought your soulmate was the perfect person for you. Why would the
world put you with someone you can’t fall in love with?”
“Because the world doesn’t see gender,” Ryan replied, desperate to answer
Tyler’s questions because he didn’t know how else to comfort him. “The world
doesn’t see people or labels or social constructs. It just sees souls. Two
perfect souls meant for each other. It doesn’t see what we feel like we can
love. It just sees what we should love.”
Tyler laughed and it was choked by a hitch in his breathe. Ryan hoped he wasn’t
crying. Ryan couldn’t hug him hard enough to fix that.
“I still have that voicemail,” Tyler said in a strangled tone. “I still listen
to it. Almost every day. Not to torture myself over what he did because I know
that even if it was my fault for not being there, I couldn’t have changed his
mind. I listen to it because I want to hear him tell me he loves me one more
time. Every day, one more time.”
Tyler sighed shakily and held Ryan closer, rubbing Ryan’s arm. “Don’t leave us
because things are hard,” he requested gently. “Don’t give up. People who’ve
jumped off bridges and survived have always realized how easily their problems
can be fixed halfway to the ground.”
“I-I won’t,” Ryan promised shakily. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Now let’s drown some
fruit in some chocolate and getting fucking high.”
Chapter End Notes
     this is hella fun
***** A Child Should Sleep In His Bed, Not Under It (Screams of the Forgotten)
*****
Chapter Summary
     brendon makes a new discovery and meets an old enemy
Chapter Notes
     brendon's gonna do some stuff in this chapter that merits the
     underage tag
     so, like, be ready
     and i kinda took a while to write this because i was only three
     hundred or so words into the beginning, but then i saw i was at 100k
     so i kinda just pushed the laptop away and was all "man fuck this
     look how well i've done i ain't gonna do shit today" and yeah, my
     southerner self made its appearance once more
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“It’s just, the more I learn in class, the more I realize that happy endings
don’t exist,” Ryan told Josh softly. They were lying on the floor together in
the dark, staring up at the ceiling fan, sated with bellies full of chocolate.
Ryan expected to get sick in an hour or two, so he was going to enjoy this
while it lasted. “If they are happy, it’s superficial. People aren’t gonna get
a happy ending without destroying another person.”
“Then maybe you need to change the way you think,” Josh suggested. “Maybe you
need a break.” Josh perked up. “I know! I know, I know, I know! Go on a stay-
cation!”
Ryan chuckled and shook his head. “Where?” he asked, deciding to play along and
maybe even take his advice into consideration.
“Drake Hotel,” Josh replied with a grin.
Ryan’s brow shot up sky high. “I’m not that rich,” he choked out.
Josh scoffed. “It’s not that expensive,” he said. “And anyways, when’s your
birthday? I can totally get you a room as your birthday present. You can just
laze around and masturbate and relax, read a book, study, whatever.”
“Why would I want to go alone?” Ryan asked.
Josh pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Take Gerard or something?”
Ryan shrugged. “What if I wanna go with you?”
“That’s so sweet,” Josh giggled. “But I think you need to go with someone
else.”
Ryan’s heart sunk.
“No, no, hey,” Josh said, reaching out and patting Ryan’s cheek. “I saw your
face get sad. Dude, I’m not rejecting you. I’m not saying I don’t want to be
around you. I’m not saying any of that. I love you, dude. You and Gerard had a
weird fight sort of thing. I don’t know if Gerard would be willing to leave
Frank for too long, but I think you need to talk to him and get his head on
straight.”
“My birthday isn’t until August anyways,” Ryan sighed.
“So, seven months?” Josh’s eyes darted around for a few seconds as he did the
math. “Something like that. What day?”
The thirtieth,” he replied softly.
Josh pouted. “Early birthday present, then,” he said decisively. “I’ll get you
a room and you can share it with whoever you want as long as it isn’t me
because you gotta work things out with the people you’re living with, you know
what I’m saying? How does next weekend sound?”
“You don’t have to, Josh,” Ryan sighed.
“I want to,” he insisted. “I do. I’m not taking classes like you are. I know
you’re stressed, probably a lot more than all of us. And I’m not even talking
about what you’re going through with Brendon. I want to give you something to
help you relax while still keeping you close enough to home so I don’t worry
about you too much.”
Ryan shrugged, then nodded. “Doesn’t that place have nice gardens?” he asked.
“Or a nice garden. Maybe Ray and Mikey should get married there.”
“That’d be so pretty!” Josh gasped. “You should totally recommend it!”
“I guess I will.”
Josh grinned. “Hey, Ry,” he whispered, hissing loud enough to make himself
easily audible. “We should make out.”
Ryan snorted and pushed Josh back by his face. “Goodnight, Josh.”
“Night, RyRo.”
. . .
Ryan had this discussion class that counted as a necessary elective credit
towards his doctorate. It was more of a debate class than discussion, and Ryan
didn’t agree with most of the people who were brave enough to speak out. Ryan
wasn't usually one of those people unless he heard something so completely
backwards that he couldn’t keep quiet.
“All I’m trying to explain is that very few prepubescents are psychologically
mature enough to make life changing decisions, such as gender reassignment or
how to handle those with self harm.”
“So you’re gonna look a suicidal, transgender teen in the eye and deny them the
surgery because they didn’t pass some psychology test”
Ryan narrowed his eyes at the girl he was debating with. Ashley was a pretty
girl and very smart, but she had some very wrong interpretations of psychology.
What else was he to expect from a law student?
“…Yes,” he finally relented with a sigh. “And, see there’s something I think
this whole progressive generation is forgetting, and that is that you can be
wrong about yourself. That kid doesn’t know their brain. Not like I do. Not
like I can see it. I see everything about them in their ticks, the way they
scratch their nose of tap their feet. We’ve got all these people wanting these
kids to get better so they tell them that the kid is right when that’s the
worst thing possible for them.”
“But they need to be happy!” she cried out, getting as angry as she always did
when someone had a different opinion from her.
“You can be happy for a day, but hate yourself for the rest of your life,” Ryan
tried to reason.
“They need to stay alive.”
“For just tonight? Or the rest of their nights?” Ryan asked.
“Are you trying to make me hate you?” she snapped.
“I don’t want you to hate me, I want you to think!” Ryan huffed in
exasperation. “You’re gonna okay an unstable boy to become a girl and when they
kill themselves anyways three years later, you’re just gonna wash your hands of
it and say that you did your best and that they should’ve been happy anyways!
We’re creating a society that would rather change their entire body than change
their way of thinking! If you look in the mirror and hate your reflection,
changing your appearance is only a temporary solution. You’re gonna end up
finding another reason to hate yourself and it’ll keep going until you realize
that it’s your brain, not your body.”
“So what, you don’t believe transgenderism is valid?”
“I’m not saying that,” Ryan sighed. “I know transgenderism is real and I know
that most people with that struggle in their lives are in desperate need of
help. But gender reassignment for minors isn’t a good idea unless the person
goes through therapy with someone professional enough to ensure that it is the
real deal. The brain just isn’t developed enough to know what it actually
wants. For examples, is your major now the same as the major you chose your
senior year of high school?”
“I’ll bet your failing this class,” she snarled. “These kids just want to be
happy. They’re fucking killing themselves over these things! And adults don’t
kill themselves.”
Ryan actually hit his head on the desk. And he wasn’t failing.
. . .
The room looked the same as always, same darkness and stains and cracks and
cold as night after night. Ryan hated that he was dreading the dreams. He loved
Brendon more than the world, but he could only take so much of denying the boy
he loved while listening to him talk about the perfect girl.
Ryan looked to Brendon, then frowned.
“Something’s wrong,” Brendon mumbled, completely red in the face.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.
“My, uh…” Brendon was playing with the hem of his shirt that was tugged down
his body. Ryan looked at Brendon’s chest, then his hips, then his legs, looking
for something to give away what was wrong. “Does, uh… Do you ever have a, a
problem?”
Ryan frowned deeper. “I’m not following.”
“Like, like your body doing weird things.” Brendon was looking anywhere but
Ryan, and it was making Ryan nervous. “Cause, cause my body is doing something
weird and it’s making me really nervous. Is that stupid?” Brendon chuckled
mirthlessly. “Scared of my own body. How fucking dumb is that?”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Ryan prodded. “Maybe I can help?”
Brendon grimaced before pulling up his shirt. Ryan’s eyes were drawn to the
soft skin of Brendon’s stomach. He had a lot more weight on him and his tummy
was full, love handles spilling over the hem of his pants. Ryan was so
distracted by Brendon’s skin that he didn’t notice the actual problem.
“It’s standing up and it feels kinda throb-y,” Brendon said. “It’s never done
this before. It was like that this morning when I woke up, and now it’s like
this again. Is this normal? Does this happen a lot? I thought girls didn’t have
a penis. What happens to them?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan choked out, unable to process this. “What? what?”
Brendon whimpered and pulled his shirt back down to cover it. “It’s bad,” he
said. “I knew it. It’s so bad, I-I’m fucked. I’m fucked up. I’m sick, aren’t I?
Ryan, am I sick?” His hands were shaking. “Ryan? A-am I gonna die?”
“No, no, no,” Ryan rushed to say. He actually smiled a bit. He could handle
this. “Brendon, it’s normal.” Not that normal, though, because this should
happen to your body when you were around ten to thirteen, not fifteen. But it
also made sense. Brendon had experienced terrible stressors in his life that
could delay these developments, just as stress could delay the menstrual cycle
or actually make the female body unable to conceive a child. The body was’t
going waste its time on the smaller things in the face of horrible conditions
and the possibility of death.
“It’s, uh, it’s called an erection,” Ryan explained, going into future-doctor
mode. He’d actually taken a course where the professor would assign
embarrassing and even humiliating things to say to patients so his students
would no longer be flustered. “It’s a natural thing that happens to the male
body.”
“Natural?” Brendon repeated. “How is this natural?” He pulled up his shirt
again and tugged down the hem of his pants and Ryan saw Brendon’s dick. Brendon
was showing Ryan his dick. And he was fucking hard and it was kinda small but
really perfect and Ryan had to look away because this was bad.
“Pull your pants back up,” he choked out.
Brendon frowned, but followed instructions.
“Do you go around flashing everyone your dick?” Ryan asked, just having to
know.
Brendon shook his head. “Not really. I just figured that, you know, since
you’re my soulmate, it would be okay.” He shrugged. “I’m just kinda really
nervous about this. It, it feels weird. And super sensitive and I’m scared to
touch it. What does this mean?”
If Brendon were five years younger, Ryan would tap out and just tell him it
meant that his body was happy. But Brendon was fifteen and really mature for
his age simply by necessity. He couldn’t bullshit Brendon. Especially not when
the boy had looked so scared.
“Okay, so, uh…” Ryan trailed off, looking around, wishing he could find
something to use as a prop to better explain this. But there was nothing. He
wasn’t sure if he was gonna give the sex talk or just the erection talk. Ryan
was gonna stick with the erection talk and pray Brendon didn’t ask too many
questions.
“Okay, so, the male body has a penis, right?” Ryan asked more than stated.
Brendon looked somewhat miffed, but nodded anyways, probably just to humor
Ryan. “And the penis serves a reproductive purpose. The sperm that is needed to
impregnate a woman is stored inside the balls and when the body is, uh,
excited, the penis will be filled with blood from the body so it can stand
straight on it’s own. That makes insertion easier, and then you ejaculate
inside the female, and she becomes pregnant when the sperm gets inside her womb
and penetrates the egg.”
Brendon looked really freaked out. Ryan realized he’d actually given the sex
talk instead.
“That doesn’t sound very good,” Brendon said cautiously. “Like, blood in there?
To make it stand up? And how do you ejaculate? Why, why would I want that? That
doesn’t sound nice at all. My sister talks about sex like it’s great, but that
doesn’t sound great at all.”
“It, uh,” and Ryan began to make random shapes in the air with his hands as he
tried to explain. “Look, to ejaculate, the penis needs to be stimulated.
Ejaculation only happens with stimulation and the stimulation has to be
pleasurable to encourage reproduction. If having sex was always painful, we
would have much lower population levels.” Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“You, you just kinda… You rub it.”
Brendon looked confused. “Rub it?” he repeated before reaching into his pants
and doing just that. Brendon’s eyes went wide and he became flushed with just
one stroke, and Ryan turned away and tried to wake the fuck up, because Brendon
was moaning raggedly and that sounded way better than Ryan had ever denied
himself imagining.
“W-woah,” Brendon breathed, and it sounded like he was still doing it. Ryan
wouldn’t know. He wasn’t looking. “This, this feels kinda awesome. A-and this
is how I ejaculate? Into a girl?”
“Not always a girl,” Ryan fumbled to say while staring at the wall. “The, the
purpose is to ejaculate in a woman, but you can ejaculate into anything. A-
a sock, your fist, someone else’s fist, a man. It, it doesn’t matter. Just,
whatever feels right.”
“This feels awesome,” Brendon moaned. “A-and what, I keep doing this till I
ejaculate?” He giggled breathlessly. “That’s such a weird word.”
“C-cum,” Ryan choked out. “That’s another way to say it. To cum.”
“To cum,” Brendon repeated slowly, articulating the word like it was something
special. Not like it was crude slang to describe intense pleasure. Ryan
shuddered, a thrill of something running through his body. This was getting
dangerous.
“So, s-so, if I keep touching myself like this, will I ejaculate? Cum?”
Ryan couldn’t answer.
“Ryan,” Brendon whined. “Look! I need your help, come on.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Ry, please,” Brendon begged. “I-I need you.”

There was something in his voice that Ryan had never heard before that made
him look. The second he had turned his head, though, he realized that the
“something” was pleasure. Absolute, mind-blowing pleasure. Ryan didn’t remember
the first time he’d gotten himself off very well, but he knew it would never
again feel as good as it had in the beginning. Ryan’s entire body snapped like
electricity when he saw his soulmate.
Brendon was on his knees, slumped back against the wall. His pants were bunched
down his thighs and his shirt was hiked up his chest, kept up only by the curve
of Brendon’s stomach. His thighs were shaking and his skin was flushed and Ryan
stared at Brendon clumsily pumping his cock, fascinated by the way he could
watch Brendon learn what he liked.
“Ryan,” Brendon keened softly. Ryan could see Brendon’s whole body was
trembling. Brendon gasped, then his eyes went wide with surprise and maybe even
a little bit of fear. Hs eyes slid shut and he let out this noise of shock.
Ryan felt something hit his cheek. He lifted his hand to touch the mess and
shuddered when he realized what it was.
“Oh,” Brendon breathed, gasping.
. . .
Ryan stared at the ceiling after waking up. It was five in the morning. He
wasn’t hard. But he was sticky and gross and Ryan felt like the shittiest type
of person. He felt like a fucking monster. He had watched Brendon get himself
off and had gotten off in succession, in his fucking sleep.
“Fuck,” Ryan choked out before getting off the sofa to get a beer.
. . .
“I know you’re pissed,” Patrick said as he watched Ryan wash his face and get
ready for the day. He was driving Pete and Patrick to the airport to catch
their flight back to L.A., and Ryan still wasn’t over how the apology had gone.
“What could ever give you that idea?” Ryan asked sarcastically, fighting the
urge to roll his eyes.
“Maybe your stellar attitude and never-ending maturity?” Patrick shot back.
Ryan knew he was well matched when it came to snide remarks and shitty
attitudes. Patrick was the only one who could stand a chance to kick Ryan off
his throne as king of the assholes.
“Ryan, I know why you’re upset,” Patrick sighed. “I know you think that I
should be mad at Pete.”
“You’re supposed to be more upset,” Ryan insisted. Patrick had breached the
subject so Ryan didn’t feel bad about diving into this conversation head first.
“He fucking exploited you and the nudes and even left you just because he’s a
fucking coward who can’t sit a person down and tell them what he’s really
thinking.”
“I know,” Patrick murmured. “I keep thinking that too. But, I mean, it’s Pete.”
He shrugged. “Pete’s always been my one and only, since the day I first saw his
face. The first words he ever said to me was that he felt lucky that he gets to
be with someone like me.”
Ryan paused. “Really?”
Patrick nodded. “Opened my eyes and he was smiling at me. I’d never seen him
before. Never even thought about being with a boy, with anyone. And the first
thing he said was “oh my god, I’m so fucking lucky, you’re fucking hot.””
Ryan smiled crookedly. “That does sound like Pete.”
Patrick smiled too. “Even after everything, after the girl and the lying and
the manipulation, I know that he loves me because I saw the excitement in his
eyes went he first saw me. That’s what I cling to. What I need to make it
through this. I love him so much. And I know he loves me too, no matter what he
does.”
Ryan hung his head. “I can’t convince you to be angry with him, can I?”
“Nope,” Patrick responded firmly. “I forgive him. And I’ll forgive him again if
it happens. He learns, you know. He doesn’t make the same mistake twice.
Especially after making me cry.”
Ryan grimaced. “That’s fucked up.”
Patrick shrugged. “Whatever makes us work.”
. . .
When Ryan woke up in the room, he didn’t know what to expect
Brendon was curled up in the corner, trembling, bruised and broken and
bleeding, just as he’d been five years ago.
Ryan scrambled to his feet and ran to the other end of the room, dropping to
the floor beside Brendon. “B?” he called out softly, holding his hands out in
front of himself so Brendon could see what he was doing, or going to do. “B,
hey, what happened? Who did this to you?”
Brendon shook his head, sniffling. His left eye was bruised so badly that he
couldn’t open it. His right cheek was scraped and bleeding and there were
bruises around his neck like hands. His shoulder looked twisted, like it was
dislocated, but the way Brendon’s collarbone had this awful bump made Ryan fear
that it was broken.
“It hurts,” Brendon whimpered. Ryan’s stomach churned and he wrapped his arms
around Brendon pulling the boy into his lap.
“Don’t think about it,” Ryan mumbled, cradling him to his chest and rubbing his
hand along Brendon’s side. He scrambled for any idea that he could use to help
calm Brendon down enough to tell Ryan what had happened, though he had a hunch.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Ryan suggested. “How, how about we talk
about the, the, uh, the sun?” Ryan winced. He was out of practice when it came
to distracting Brendon from his aching body. “Fuck, Brendon, talk to me,
please. Or tell me that you want me to keep talking. I need to know what to do
to make this better, Brendon, please, talk to me.”
“I-I told my brother,” Brendon choked out. “A-a-about the thing w-with the
ejaculation. A-and he t-told my dad and my dad started y-yelling at me about
the devil and b-b-being a failure and he s-s-started kicking me and he threw me
into the w-wall a-and I blacked out and now I’m h-here, b-b-but it hurts!”
Brendon was sobbing and shaking. “It hurts l-like he’s still hitting me!”
Ryan felt sick to imagine that Brendon’s father was still beating him while
Brendon was unconscious.
“M-make it stop,” Brendon begged.
“I don’t know how,” Ryan said, feeling helpless. “I don’t, B. I’m so sorry.”
“It hurts,” Brendon cried, trembling. Ryan looked down at Brendon’s neck and
paled when he saw bruises begin to appear, a second pair of hands trying to end
Brendon’s life. “It hurts so m-much.”
“Don’t fall asleep,” Ryan ordered, holding him tighter. “Don’t you dare fall
asleep.”
. . .
“He’s hitting Brendon again,” Ryan told Gerard hollowly. “He’s beating him.”
Gerard looked stricken with horror, a hand rising to cover his mouth. “That,
that can’t be,” he whimpered. “Everything had been going so well, hadn’t it? I
thought everything was going to be okay for him. His family was gonna love him
one day.”
“They won’t ever love him,” Ryan said. “I knew they would never love him.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” Gerard asked.
Ryan shook his head. “He was so broken,” he murmured. “He was torn apart,
shredded, and fucking crushed. He, he almost fell asleep, Gee. He almost fell
asleep, he almost fell asleep! Oh god, he almost died!”
Ryan had slid to the floor, his legs no longer able to keep him standing.
Gerard dropped to his knees beside Ryan and wrapped his arms around him,
holding him close. Ryan trembled in his arms, breaking down for what had to be
the millionth time, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost
himself to the stress in his mind. He couldn’t even imagine how scared Brendon
had to be right now.
“I need to find him,” he choked. “I don’t care about Sarah, I need to find
him.”
“I’ll help,” Gerard promised. “We all will.”
. . .
“When life gives you lemons, demand for money,” Frank told the ceiling of the
city hall office Ryan, Gerard, and Frank were in while they were waiting for
Ray to come back with anything he could find on people with the name “Brendon.”
Ryan was sure that there had to be over a thousand people with that name, but
he needed to start somewhere. He wasn’t sure if Ray would be able to get any
information at all. If that was the case, Ryan planned on taking to the
phonebooks.
“Phonebooks won’t work,” Frank sighed when Ryan told them his contingency plan.
“I doubt his parents have his name in there. He probably isn’t even registered
beyond a birth certificate and a social security number. Unless he was born in
some shitty tub in their house without a legal physician. Come to think of it,
you don’t even know his last name, so you wouldn’t be able to find him
anyways.”
Ryan let out a groan and pulled at his hair. “This isn’t fucking fair,” he
said. “Why is it so fucking hard for me to find him?”
“I don’t know,” Frank said lamely. 

“What was that about lemons?” Gerard asked, smiling a bit.
Frank shrugged. “If life gives you lemons, demand money. Think outside the box.
Capitalism. Quid pro quo. Whatever, you know? Whatever gets you ahead in life,
right? I mean, to a certain extent. Fucking people over to climb higher isn’t
cool.”
“What if it’s to save another person?” Gerard posed.
Frank sat up and made a tent with his fingers, narrowing his eyes, posed in his
thinking position. “Continue,” he prodded methodically. Frank enjoyed
discussing hypotheticals, especially when they challenged the current cultural
norms.
“Okay, so,” Gerard began. He sat in one of the plush leather chairs that was in
front of the main desk of the office. “You’ve got a wife, and—”
“Husband,” Frank corrected with a cheeky grin.
Gerard giggled and blushed and nodded. “Husband,” he repeated. “So, you’re, you
have your husband, and he needs a heart transplant, right? But the doctor gives
your husband the choice to bypass the heart even though he's next on the donor
list so the doctor can give the heart to a small child who’s right after him,
who probably won’t live long enough to get the next heart. Would you let your
husband chose to give up the heart? Or would you convince him to keep the heart
and, more-than-likely, kill the child?”
Frank looked Gerard in the eye. “I’d convince you to take the heart,” he said.
“Because I don’t give a shit about some fucking kid. I need you to stay alive
and be with me.”
Gerard was very quiet.
“That’s messed up,” Ryan said. “And, also, very predictable and unsurprising.”
“What?” Frank demanded. “Wouldn’t you convince Brendon to take the heart?”
“Of course,” Ryan affirmed. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”
“How are we defining what’s right?” Gerard asked.
Ryan shrugged. “I’m defining it as what’s most conducive for the continuation
of the human race.”
“Really?” Frank asked. “That’s harsh. Is that, like, something psychologists
do?”
“No,” Ryan scoffed. “It’s something I realized in my philosophy elective
course. There’s not such thing as right or wrong. Every single moral rule we
have in modern society has come only from the idea that we need to keep our
species alive. These morals came from when we were much weaker and fewer in
numbers as a species. Now we’re stuck in these constructs with no way to
actually know what’s truly right and what’s truly wrong.”
“But murder is wrong,” Gerard stated in a very unsure tone.
“Dude, it’s isn’t!” Frank suddenly gasped. “I mean, not technically! We only
said “don’t murder” because that would break our ability to trust and conform
and would take down our populace! Oh my god, everything I know is fucking
wrong!”
“Thanks for making my husband question the scruples of morality itself,” Gerard
giggled.

“Ryan’s right!” Frank cried out, looking like Ryan had actually rocked his
world. “Incest, torture, rape, it’s all to keep us trusting each other and
staying together in one group so we can defend against predators! If you can’t
trust your fellow villagers, why the hell would you stay and be part of the
majority rule that keeps everyone alive? We’re a fucking parasite!”
“What?” Gerard asked, obviously losing Frank’s train of thought.
“Even animals will murder their own kind for their own needs,” Frank rushed to
explain, passionate about this. Ryan smiled to himself. “That keeps their
population at normal, manageable levels. But we mainstreamed togetherness and
did everything we could to keep people from never dying, and now there are too
many of us and we’re fucking strangling the world with our bare hands! We’re
parasites!”
“Isn’t that from the Matrix?” Ryan asked, just to keep Frank thinking. He’d
been over this several times with other students.
“Kinda,” Frank agreed. “But they only touched on consumption of resources and
not renewing them. But this shit? This is a whole new level of mind fuck. This,
there needs to be a book about this. I need to write a book about this.”
“The Frankenstein theory,” Ryan giggled.
“What?” Frank frowned. “How does that title make sense?”
“Frankenstein went to the most extreme lengths to bring a person life to back,”
Ryan replied. “Even digging up bodies, which is also a huge moral no because we
don’t want to catch diseases and loose a plague that could kill tons of people.
Frankenstein is one of the most classic representations of doing horrible
things to lengthen life. So, Frankenstein Theory.”
“Also, your name is Frank,” Gerard giggled, very entertained.
“That too,” Ryan agreed.
“I’m pretty sure there was a movie called the Frankenstein Theory,” Gerard
thought aloud. “It was weird. It was a found footage movie and it was about a
descendent of Doctor Frankenstein trying to find the monster, and the monster
just kinda killed all of them, brutally. One guy got ripped to shreds on
camera.” He shrugged. “I mean, it was pretty good for a B movie.”
“Jesus,” Frank giggled. “Name one movie you haven’t seen, Gee.”
“How do I name something that which I don’t know exists?” Gerard asked. “If I
hear a movie title, I watch it. I can’t name a movie I haven’t seen because
I’ve seen every movie that I can name.”
“You’re a cinema freak,” Ryan hummed. “It’s awesome.”
“We should get ourselves a movie room,” Frank said with a grin. “Just, shelves
full of movies and stuff. Or everything. One wall has books, one wall as
movies, one wall has video games, and…” He trailed off, frowning.
“And the last wall has comics?” Gerard suggested with a hopeful grin.
“And music,” Ryan said. “Half comics, half music.”
“Music?” Frank snorted. “Dude, only you want those vinyls and CDs and shit. The
future is digital.”
“When an EMP goes off and we’re left stumbling in a wasteland with no internet,
you’re gonna be thankful for my CD collection and my CD portable player.”
“I’d rather it be the undead,” Gerard said almost dreamily. “A zombie
apocalypse.”
“We already have a world full of zombies,” Ryan said.
“Thank you, Captain Buzzkill,” Frank chuckled.
Ray came back to the office with a downcast expression.
“What’s got you so glum, sugar plum?” Frank asked with an outrageous pout,
still in a chipper mood.
“I can’t find him,” Ray murmured.
The careless feeling in the room faded as Ryan was reminded of why they were
here.
“I-I won’t find him ever, will I?” Ryan asked brokenly.
No one answered him.
“Fuck,” Ryan choked out. “I-I can’t do this.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” Gerard tried to say, looking like he wanted to help
console Ryan, but also like he knew that there was nothing he could do.
“What am I supposed to say?” Ryan asked all of them, wanting to know what they
thought he should do. When no one answered, again, he became nearly hysterical.
“What the fuck do I tell him?!” he cried out, throwing his arms into the air.
“That I can’t find him? That my promise meant nothing because they were empty
and useless and as fucking fucked up as his fucking life? What do I say? Hey B,
Ryan’s here to throw you in the closet and never remember you! Sorry about all
that bullshit I said about taking you away from there, life’s a bitch and
you’re just gonna get fucked again!”
“Calm down, Ryan,” Frank said, standing and looking like he was going to
approach Ryan. Rya stumbled away, pulling at his hair and his shirt and even
his skin, dragging his nails down his arms because he didn’t know what to do
with the pain coiling around his heart.
“Ryan, please,” Ray joined in, though he wasn’t trying to walk towards Ryan,
which was good. Ryan felt like the walls were closing around him. His chest
constricted and refused to expand. Spots flickered in his vision and Ryan was
suddenly only the floor with no explanation. He clutched to the front of his
shirt and gasped for breath.
“Panic attack,” Ryan heard someone say.
“Get him some water,” another voice said.
A body was in front of Ryan out of fucking nowhere, and then there were
headphones covering his ears. Ryan tried to push them away, but hesitated when
the steady beat of a heart played through the speakers. Just the metronome of
life, over and over, at a stable pace. Ryan felt someone tap the same rhythm
into his inner wrist. Ryan trembled and latched onto the hand. He hoped he
wasn’t squeezing too tightly.
“Just breathe through it,” Ryan heard someone say over the beat. He wasn’t sure
how long he stayed there, crouched on the floor and losing his mind to the
panic, but it felt like hours and he felt bad for making the others stay in
this office, cramped and quiet, for so long.
The first thing he said, after recollecting himself, was, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Frank sighed. “You haven’t had one of those in a while.
It was overdue.”
“Overdue,” Ryan repeated, sounding almost slurred. “Fuck. I’m a fucking mess.”
Ray shrugged, still holding Ryan’s hand. It was nice to know who’d been the one
to keep Ryan grounded. “You’re the right amount of crazy to be considered a
balanced individual.” Ryan smiled a bit. “Not much more of a mess than the rest
of us.”
Ryan bit his lip and just nodded.
“How about we get some ice cream?” Gerard suggested. “To take our minds off
things.”
Ryan nodded again and stood and left the office in a rush with a horrible taste
in his mouth as he tried to think of what he could say to Brendon tonight.
. . .
“I-I still don’t want you to find me,” Brendon stammered. The twitches were
back. The hunched shoulders, the shaking, the fear and the flinching. Brendon
had been set back five years and Ryan felt like a monster for being useless in
protecting Brendon from this hell.
“Why not?” Ryan asked cautiously, being careful not to jump to conclusions.
“Because he’ll to hurt y-you,” Brendon replied. His eyes were wide, yet
haggard, and they darted around every few seconds to make sure whatever he
thought he was seeing in the shadows wasn’t actually real. “I can’t let him
hurt you, Ryan.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ryan said. “I’ll have people with me. I’ll be safe. I won’t let
him hurt you, or me, or anyone else.” Fuck, if Ryan gets it his way, that man
won’t see the light of day ever again without cell bars obstructing the view.
“I’m gonna come get you,” Ryan insisted. “I don’t know how I’ll find you, but
I’ll come get you.”
Brendon shook his head vehemently, pressing his palms into his eyes. “D-d-don’t
come near me,” he babbled. “Don’t come near me.”
Ryan tried to move closer, tried to console Brendon.
“Don’t come near me!” Brendon screamed.
. . .
There was a flash of red behind Ryan’s eyes like he’d been bludgeoned, and Ryan
snapped awake with a shout of fear, panting.
. . .
“I’m gonna find him,” Ryan told Gerard firmly. “I’m gonna fucking travel the
entire fucking country to find him. I’m gonna find him and I’m gonna take him
home and keep him safe.”
“Yes, yes you will,” Gerard said, looking nervous. He had a hand out in front
of himself, talking to Ryan like he was a wounded, feral animal. “You will find
him, Ryan, no one’s saying that you won’t. But, but you can’t do this. If you
leave school now, you’ll be forced into dropping out. Then all those payments
are gonna be due and you’ve gotta start paying them in six months! This is
crazy, Ryan, you, you gotta wait. Gotta stick it out.”
“Brendon won’t fucking survive two more years!” Ryan cried out, His hands were
shaking and he was close to another panic attack. He’d had nearly one every day
since the first. Ryan was falling apart and he didn’t know how to stop.
“Brendon will survive,” Gerard told him. “He has to. For you. He’ll stay awake
and you’ll keep him safe in his head. The, the narcolepsy will probably come
back, but that, if that’s what happens, we’ll be here for you. We’ll help you,
same as we always have.”
“You mean you’ll let me cripple you and your lives,” Ryan rasped. “You’ll let
me strangle your schedules, rule your nights and days and fuck everything up
for you!”
“No, no, you’ve never done that,” Gerard scrambled to say. He finally touched
Ryan, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not gonna do that again because
you’ve never done it before, Ryan. You’ve only ever been good to us, and
grateful for what we’ve given.”
“And I lashed out at all of you every week.”
Gerard shook his head. “You lashed out at yourself,” he reasoned. “I know as
well as you do that those words you said hurt you more than us. We forgave you
almost instantly, we always do. You’ve never given any of us a reason to
believe you mean the cruel things you say. And I now that you still beat
yourself up for what you’ve said. How else do you still remember it now?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I-I just
want everything to be perfect and happy and everyone to be fucking safe and
wrapped in fucking bubble wrap so nothing can ever get to them.”
“That’s not how the world works,” Gerard sighed. “You know that. Better than
most.”
“And you know it too,” Ryan replied. “How?”
Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know the how or the why or anything. I just know that
it does. If the world wasn’t like that, people would be a lot happier. There
wouldn’t be cancer or murder or pain. But without all that, there isn’t much to
fight for either, you know?”
“Can’t fight for love?” Ryan asked.
“We wouldn’t want love if we’d never known loneliness,” Gerard said. “You’ve
said it before, I think. Happiness is only happy because we’ve been sad. If
there was no bad, we’d be blind to what’s good.”
Ryan ducked his head, stricken with anxiousness. He was scared of becoming
something he didn’t want to be. And he didn’t trust the others to steer him
from the path. He knew they would just step back and wait to catch him because
they wanted to let Ryan figure things out since they apparently didn’t trust
themselves to help.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” he said. “I don’t want to fuck this up for
Brendon.”
“What about yourself?” Gerard asked, looking worried. “You, you really gotta
look out for yourself, Ryan. We really need you to start caring about what
happens to you. We might not be there if something happens.”
“Aren’t you always supposed to be here for me?” Ryan whimpered.
Gerard winced. “That, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that you need to
take care of yourself too, or Brendon’s gonna suffer with you.”
Ryan paled. “I-I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Don’t stress yourself out either,” Gerard pleaded. “You just, you put so much
pressure on yourself, Ryan. You’re gonna wear yourself into the ground and I’m
scared you’re gonna dig a hole so deep that none of us can dig you out.”
“You think I’m gonna kill myself,” Ryan translated. His tone became suddenly
dull and tired and he realized he didn’t have much to say to deny that.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ryan,” Gerard said in a small voice.
“You shouldn’t. Not if you’re careful.”
“And we’re the only people that can keep you from it?” Gerard asked. “You’re
not even gonna try to save yourself?”
“I don’t have to try,” he murmured. “As long as Brendon lives, I’ll be here
too.”
“But if he’s gone…”
“I answered that question when I was eighteen,” Ryan mumbled.
. . .
“Frantic Fiascos,” Ryan said to himself as he scribbled notes in his binder.
“Anxiety in the Afterlife. PTSD with the Parents.” He was writing random words
and titles that followed the general idea he had. When he and Spencer had been
kids, they’d decided they were going to name their future band “Pet
Salamander.” But Spencer was behind Ryan, and so was that name.
“Seizures in Seattle,” he mumbled, writing down name after name.
He wanted the title to be true to his life. Brendon loved music and sound and
his eyes lit up like fucking diamonds and made Ryan think of stars and sun
showers and glass and mirrors.
He wanted the title to also reflect his growing stress and worsening
psychological state. A title that demonstrated his struggle with Brendon and
the dreams. Something that showed and summed up everything Ryan had been
through these past few years with as little words as possible. He couldn’t
stand long band names that needed to be abbreviated. He wanted to make things
as simple as they could be, because nothing else was.
He wanted to have a name for Brendon to look forward to, a promise of a future
without saying a thing. He wanted to show Brendon that he hadn’t forgotten
about Brendon’s desires for his future, Brendon’s wants and his idealistic need
to be in a band like Pete and Patrick. He wanted to show Brendon that he
remembered and wanted the same thing.
Ryan bit his lip and stared down at the paper.
“Panic at the Disco,” was the last idea he scribble down.
Chapter End Notes
     the next chapter may take bit longer because i'm going on a trip to
     see FOB and i'm super pumped and shit and yeah, i'll try to get it up
     in a week, but no promises? super sorry
***** Sleep Tonics (If You’re Trying to Hurt Me, You Can Stop, Because You
Already Have) *****
Chapter Summary
     all bones have a breaking point
Chapter Notes
     uh so there's a suicide attempt in this chapter. fair warning for
     triggers and such. like, if you honestly cannot read it, just message
     me at the bottom of this chapter and i'll give you a summary so you
     don't have to read the whole thing. but i really encourage you to try
     and read it anyways, because it's like not a gory attempt and it's
     not for the more general or standard reasons a person would attempt
     suicide
     so yeah
     good luck
     credit to momiji_neyuki for Josh's comment about stringing Brendon's
     dad up by the balls
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Panic in the what?” Brendon asked in a small voice. He was huddled in the same
corner he’d hidden in since he was ten and there was a wicked bruise covering
his entire right arm, purple and green and angry.
“Panic at the Disco,” Ryan repeated.
“W-why would we want to panic?” Brendon queried. “And what’s a disco?”
Ryan smiled a bit. “A disco is a type of dancing party, or a type of music.
It’s from the seventies.”
“The seventies,” Brendon repeated slowly, forming his lips around the word like
it was palpable. “That, that’s a time?”
“Yeah,” Ryan confirmed. “It’s the decade of 1970 to 1980. It’s the name for the
culture that was a big deal at the time, like bell-bottom jeans and ruffles and
shirts that show half your chest.”
“That’s so weird,” Brendon said. There was a hint of a smile pulling at his
lips and Ryan’s heart thumped painfully in his chest, but he was used to
Brendon making him feel like that. “I didn’t realize that people are defining
themselves by a year.”
Ryan snorted. “I mean, they do. It’s an odd thing if you really think about it,
but I try not to.”
Brendon nodded, staring at his bruise and broken knuckles, dried blood clinging
to shredded skin. “I miss Sarah,” he mumbled.
Ryan ducked his head and swallowed hard so his voice wouldn’t crack when he
spoke. “I’m sure she misses you too,” he said. “I’m sure she’s wondering where
you are. And I’m sure she’s worried about you. I’m sure she’s looking for you.”
“You think?” Brendon asked, a bigger smile coming to his face.
Ryan steeled his jaw. “Yeah.”
Brendon grinned to himself and looked to the dirt with an almost dreamy
expression, like he was imaging the frantic searching Sarah was doing. Ryan
found himself spitefully hoping that she wasn’t looking for him, and he knew it
was wrong to think that way, especially for Brendon, but he was so fucking
jealous. He was the one who’d been dreaming with Brendon and helping him cope,
not Sarah.
“Do you think she’ll come save me?” Brendon asked hopefully.
Ryan flinched and only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“Good,” Brendon hummed. “I-I’m glad. I hope she finds me. And then we’ll run
away and everything will be okay.”
. . .
“Fall Out Boy has a new album coming out,” Mikey told Ryan softly. “From Under
the Cork Tree. I’ve preordered it and everything. I’ve heard some teasers that
Pete sent me and it sounds fucking great. I-I think you’d like it.”
Ryan nodded, leaning against the wall, staring at nothing. He was exhausted.
He’d been dead in dreamland all night and had woken up more tired than he’d
been falling asleep. His bones and body felt weary and worn, stretched apart
and stiff like a corpse. His joints groaned with the effort of every move he
made and his face felt hot with a fever he didn’t have. His eyes felt like
they’d been pushed into the back of his head and breathing was a chore.
“Please talk to me,” Mikey pleaded brokenly.
Ryan turned his head to look at the other man with half lidded eyes.
Mikey bit his lip. “Please?”
Ryan sighed through his nose and shut his eyes. He heard Mikey stand and
wondered what he was gonna do. He hoped he was going to be left alone.
Footsteps sounded away from Ryan, and they got quieter and quieter. While he
felt lonely, and was almost about to call Mikey back, he remembered why he’d
wanted Mikey gone in the first place. He didn’t want anyone to see how much of
a fuck up he was.
. . .
Ryan had the shower running so no one would disturb him in the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection and tried to figure out what it was about himself
that made Brendon not want him. Was it the fact that he was a boy? He didn’t
think so. If Brendon didn’t want Ryan because he was a boy, he wouldn’t have
wanted to kiss Ryan and not kiss Sarah. But then again, Brendon wanted Sarah
back in his life, not Ryan. Brendon wanted Sarah to save him and take him away
from that hell and marry him. Even though Brendon sometimes said he loved Ryan,
Brendon showed Sarah how much he loved her even more. It was the things you
said about the person you loved to other people that showed what you truly
felt.
Ryan moved closer to the mirror, studying the bags under his eyes. He wasn’t
very pretty to begin with, and now the sleeplessness was making it worse. Sarah
didn’t have bags under her eyes. She was probably gorgeous. Brendon said she
was gorgeous, and Ryan believed him.
She was probably a beautiful girl with clear skin and a bright smile, perfect
hair that always did what she wanted it to. She had to be smart and nice and
she had to like to hug people, because Brendon loved getting hugs, even if he
was scared of them. Sarah had to know who she was as a human being, had to know
what she wanted from life. She had to be headstrong, because that’s the only
way it could be. She had to be able to keep Brendon standing if he fell. She
probably had the prettiest lips and the most amazing eyes, vibrant and alive.
Ryan reached up with two fingers and pulled down on his skin, looking into his
bloodshot eyes. He hated to think that people could see his soul through his
eyes. He didn’t want people to see what was going on in his head. He hated his
thoughts. He hated the way he saw the world. He hated the way he looked.
Ryan had never felt resentment towards his own body before. He had always fit
into society’s idea of beauty; skinny, fair skinned, tall, he was everything
that the world said he needed to be. But he wasn’t what Brendon wanted, and
that made Ryan hate himself.
What hurt the most was how dependent Ryan was on Brendon, but how easily
Brendon could just push Ryan aside if he didn’t like something Ryan said. Ryan
needed Brendon, but Brendon didn’t fucking need him. What was he supposed to do
about that? What could Ryan do to make Brendon need him?
Ryan began to breathe shakily as he tried to think past everything that was
going wrong behind his irises. He felt sick and dizzy and he needed to sleep,
he needed to fucking sleep, he needed to fall into bed for a whole fucking week
and just regroup, recuperate, and he needed to feel fucking nothing before he
drowned in this awful everything that was constricting his throat and making
his heart too heavy to beat, his veins too thin to pump the blood and keep him
alive.
Ryan’s nails dug uselessly into the faux marble countertop as he tried to
ground himself, because he was scared that if he didn’t find something to hold
on to, he’d spin into the atmosphere and freeze in the vacuum of space. He had
to hold on and just focus on not losing his mind.
His hands shook as an idea dawned, not an explanation, but an answer. He could
make Brendon need him. Ryan was sure that if he fell unconscious in an urgent
way, it could bring Brendon into the dream with him. He was positive that would
work, because he needed it to work.
Ryan grabbed Gerard’s old anxiety medication that he kept around and opened the
top, counting the pills. There were about twenty left. Ryan was sure that would
do the trick. He didn’t know if Brendon would be able to save him. He would
leave the door unlocked. Maybe someone would bring him back. But Ryan was sure
that seeing Brendon look like he needed Ryan in Ryan’s final moments would be
well worth it.
Ryan popped back the pills and swallowed them down with a handful of water. He
sat on the floor and waited. Ryan remembered learning that it would take a few
minutes, maybe half an hour. He knew it would be okay. He hoped he would wake
up, but it would be fine if he didn’t. He could use the extra sleep, anyways.
. . .
“Fucking throw it up!” Frank was screaming.
Ryan tried to tear his eyes open, and was barely able to do so. Then he felt
two fingers down his throat and he choked, gagging and heaving, stomach acid
burning his throat as it left his body. He coughed up into the tub that he was
bent over into and gasped for breath, feeling lethargic and empty. He still
couldn’t breathe that well.
“You fucking asshole,” someone sobbed. “You fucking asshole!”
“Ryan?”
Ryan dragged his eyes up and smiled dully in greeting, to show he heard his
name.
Ray shook his head. “Why?”
Ryan didn’t understand the question Ray was asking. His mouth tasted sour and
Frank’s grip on his wrist was cutting off his blood flow. Sleep tugged at his
eyes and he couldn’t focus on a single object for too long. His vision trembled
in a way that made him nauseous and he couldn’t stop smiling like a druggie.
“Fuck you, Ryan,” Gerard sobbed behind him. “W-what the fuck is wrong with
you?”
“I’m calling Josh,” Mikey mumbled. Ryan heard him leave. Ray left with him.
Frank was still holding on tight like he was scared Ryan would slip away. Ryan
was kinda scared of that too, especially with the way unconsciousness tugged at
his mind again.
Then he was bent over the tub and heaving. There were still pills in his vomit,
so he hoped that meant he wouldn’t die from this.
“I’m gonna need you to explain a few things,” Frank told him firmly. “You
can’t, you can’t do this to us, Ryan. We’re doing everything we can to keep you
with us, doing all we can to keep you here with us. We love you.”
Ryan nodded and shut his eyes, resting his heated face on the cool tile. It
felt nice.
. . .
Frank held Ryan on the couch while they waited for Josh to show up. Mikey
apparently hadn’t told Josh what had happened because if he had, Ryan knew he
would’ve been here ten minutes ago. At least, he hoped that was the case.
Otherwise, Ryan would have to reevaluate how important he was to anyone in his
life, if he was important at all.
“I just wanted to see if Brendon would care,” Ryan told Frank because he had to
tell someone, didn’t he? “I wanted to fall asleep in the dream and see if he
would cry. Because I-I don’t think he would.”
“Jesus,” Frank breathed.
Ryan shrugged, enjoying the way he could feel Frank’s body rise and fall. “Even
when I’m the only person there, he only wants Sarah.”
“I, I can’t accept that,” Frank choked out. “Ryan, fuck, how do you know that
he isn’t talking about you the entire time he’s with Sarah? He could be just as
obsessed with you around her as he’s obsessed with her around you.”
“I just wanted to see if he’d cry,” Ryan murmured. “But I didn’t even dream.”
He smiled wretchedly. “Even my death wouldn’t bring him to me.”
Frank didn’t say anything.
Someone knocked on the door. Probably Josh.
Mikey opened the door and Josh was standing there, grinning, a ceramic coffee
mug decorated with sharpie and stickers in his grip. Josh looked over all the
faces, though, and his grin fell.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Why don’t you ask Ryan?” Gerard spat hatefully. Ryan was too tired to be hurt
by the cruelty. And he really didn’t blame Gerard for being upset. Ryan
would’ve been upset too, if this had been Gee. But then again, Gerard had a lot
more to live for than him.
“Ryan?” Josh called him back to reality with a tremor in his tone. “What
happened?”
“I swallowed some pills,” Ryan told him.
Ryan was surprised when Josh dropped the mug and it didn’t shatter. Maybe it
was plastic, not ceramic. There was still Josh’s drink all over the floor, and
it looked like it was orange juice. Ryan smiled to himself, because that just
seemed like the best way to show who Josh was. Orange juice in a plastic coffee
mug with stickers and sharpies. It was a beautiful representation of Josh as a
person.
“You can’t leave me,” Josh whimpered. “I can’t lose you too.”
Ryan blinked sluggishly as he tried to figure out why Josh felt like that. He
wasn’t sure when he’d become so important to Josh that his life meant as much
as Debby’s had. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe that to be true. It
would make decisions like whether he wanted to live or die a lot more
difficult.
“Fuck, no,” Josh sobbed. He was crying now. Huge tears spilled out of his eyes.
Ryan instinctually stood on weak legs and shuffled over to Josh. He felt half
asleep, like this was all a dream, but he knew it wasn’t, because never even in
his nightmares would he imagine Josh crying. Ryan put his arms around Josh’s
arms and held him. He was having trouble processing what was happening and
everything felt way to blurry, but he knew he’d never meant to make Josh cry.
Josh wrapped his arms around Ryan. “I-I wanna fucking p-p-punch you,” he cried.
“I won’t, b-but I’m gonna fucking punch y-you.” He was hiccuping with the
strength of his sobs and Ryan held him tighter. He wasn’t worried about hurting
Josh. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to cause him physical pain like this. Not
with this hug, anyways.
“I-I’m not leaving you,” Ryan stuttered. It still sounded like Josh was crying,
but Ryan wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not.”
“Get him the fuck out of here!” Gerard suddenly snapped.
Ryan flinched and he knew Josh felt it.
“Fuck you, Gerard!” Frank shouted back. The hairs on the back of Ryan’s neck
stood on end instinctively, though it was an old instinct. His body always knew
when to tense for a fight that could end in bruises.
“He just tried to fucking kill himself and you think kicking him out is going
to help?!” Frank’s voice was moving away like he was walking towards Gerard.
“I wanna leave,” Ryan whispered in Josh’s ear. “I-I don’t want to hear this.”
Josh nodded and pulled Ryan towards the door. Ryan felt one of Josh’s arms
leave his back to wave or motion or something. Then Ryan heard Mikey and Ray
whispering to each other as they appeared at Ryan’s side. That helped Ryan
relax a little, because he was happy to have Mikey and Ray come along, and he
was also happy to know that they weren’t going to have to be around for the
fight.
“I have one of the trucks,” Josh said as he pulled Ryan outside. Ryan looked up
at the dark sky and wondered when it had become night. Brendon hadn’t pulled
Ryan into sleeping yet, so he could only hope the poor kid was okay.
“Is this Civil Planet?” Ray asked. “I love the food.”
“Tyler’s gonna be so mad at me,” Ryan said. “He made me promise to not try and
kill myself and I did anyways.” He sighed as Josh pulled him into the truck. “I
don’t know how I’m gonna make this up to him.”
“Fix yourself first,” Mikey said.
Ryan nodded, twisting in his chair to look back at Ray and Mikey. They were
squished against the seats, between the seats and the wall. Ryan figured they
were too anxious to stand in the actual back. Ryan reached back and held
Mikey’s hand. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Mikey mumbled.
“I’m taking you guys back to my place,” Josh said. “Tyler and Jenna are on a
date, so we’ve got the place to ourselves for a while.”
“Thank you,” Ray said. “Really. Thank you for coming when we called. And thank
you for taking us with.”
Josh nodded stiffly and didn’t reply.
. . .
Ryan was confused when he woke up in the darkness of his and Brendon’s room. He
couldn’t remember falling asleep. He couldn’t remember anything, really. He
remembered pills and Gerard crying and Frank screaming and he remembered
feeling half dead.
Ryan stared at the furthest wall, to Brendon, who was standing and staring
back, eyes so bruised that he looked like the dead body Ryan had wanted to be.
That brute which knows no peace came even nearer me and step by step, drove me
back down to where the sun is mute,Ryan mentally recited.
“I think my dad is gonna kill me,” Brendon said.
Ryan could only nod.
“He pointed a gun at me,” Brendon continued. “I think he’s gonna kill me.”
“I don’t want you to die,” Ryan mumbled.
Brendon stumbled forward and sat on the floor. He eyed Ryan’s hands.
Ryan reached out and pulled Brendon into his lap, holding him to his chest like
he had three years ago.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
. . .
“You blacked out,” Mikey told Ryan from the floor. He was watching Ryan, had
been watching him, apparently. Ryan honestly didn’t mind. “The narcolepsy is
back.”
Ryan nodded and pulled one of the sofa pillow to his chest, hugging it. He shut
his eyes again.
. . .
“Have you ever been shot?” Brendon asked Ryan immediately. Ryan blinked
sluggishly, unable to keep track of what was real at this point. He’d been
falling asleep for random intervals all night. He didn’t know what was
happening.
“No,” he murmured.
“I think I’m about to be,” Brendon said. “My brother pushed me down the stairs.
My head hurts.”
Ryan opened his mouth to say something when he woke up again.
. . .
“Ryan?” Josh whimpered. Ryan looked up from the floor and saw that Josh was
terrified. He’d been waiting for this to happen. He’d been waiting for Josh to
see just how much of a fucking mess Ryan was and hightail it out of Ryan’s
life.
“You passed out again,” Josh told him. “I-I’m fucking scared.”
Ryan nodded to show that he'd heard him and was trying to understand. He felt
like he should be scared. He felt like he was supposed to be worried for
Brendon’s safety, or even his own, but he only felt a whole lot of nothing. He
wondered if it had anything to do with dying.
“You were thrashing,” Josh continued, his voice trembling. “You dropped out of
the bed, but that didn’t even wake you up. Mikey’s getting you ice for your
head. He said that this happens a lot. Or it used to.”
“Often enough,” Ryan mumbled.
Josh nodded, looking at his hands. “Are you gonna pass out anymore?”
Ryan shrugged.
. . .
“What’s happening?” Brendon sobbed.
Ryan was gone before he could answer.
…
Ryan lied in bed and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t remember moving to the
bed, so he was sure that someone else had moved him there. He assumed it was
Ray because no one else was strong enough to really lift Ryan. Or at least, he
assumed so. He could kinda remember Josh lifting him before, but he wasn’t sure
if that had been real or not. Ryan turned his head to the side.
Josh was lying next to him.
Ryan stared at Josh, and Josh stared back. Neither of them said a word, so Ryan
squirmed closer and kissed Josh chastely. Josh immediately clung to Ryan’s
front and kissed him harder, devouring and bruising Ryan’s lips. Ryan submitted
instantly, letting Josh do whatever needed to because Ryan knew that he needed
whatever it was too.
Less than ten minutes in, and Ryan was under Josh, holding onto Josh’s
shoulders as the other man drove inside him. He felt so fucking helpless to the
pleasure and he needed this, he needed this so fucking bad. He needed to lose
all sense of control and just let someone he trusted take what he needed from
Ryan.
“You can’t leave me,” Josh gasped as he pushed and pulled, in and out. “You c-
can’t fucking leave me, do you hear me? I’ve got nothing left, fucking nothing!
I’ve got nothing but you and T-Tyler and I need you to fucking stay, because I
can’t fucking do this alone. I-I can’t lose someone again. I can’t lose y-you.”
Ryan just nodded, lying back and holding on for the ride. He had his hand on
Josh’s chest and found this as the most therapeutic experience he’d had in his
whole fucking life.
“Please don’t leave me,” Josh begged while he thrusted. “Please don’t l-leave.”
Ryan could feel Josh so fucking deep inside him, dragging across that spot,
driving him insane. He moaned and nodded again, realizing that he probably
couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to.
“Answer me!” Josh cried out, his voice cracking.
Ryan shuddered. “I-I’ll stay,” he whispered.
Josh sobbed brokenly and Ryan surged upwards to kiss him.
. . .
“I want to tie Brendon's father up by his nuts and let him swing,” Josh
mumbled.
Ryan smiled wryly and nodded, playing with Josh’s fingertips on top of Josh’s
stomach. They’d fucked twice and it was fucking awesome and Ryan was finally
feeling fucking alive and like a fucking human being again.
“I do too,” he replied. He then said, “you’ve got cute nipples.”
Josh snorted.
“I mean it,” Ryan said. “They’re, like, this dusty brown color and I really
like them. I wanna pinch them and make you squirm. It would be cute. Do you
think that would turn you on?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Josh chuckled. “Stop being so adorable.”
“It’s all I know how to do,” Ryan drawled.
Josh’s chuckle grew into a laugh. “Wow! So fucking sarcastic! Jesus, man, you’d
think that I have a gun to your back under the bed. Making you stay here.” He
poked Ryan’s cheek. “Do I need to hold a gun to you, baby? Or do you want to
stay with me of your own will? I can make you lemonade and finger you.”
“I would love some lemonade.”
Josh pouted. “You don’t want me to finger you?”
“Your dick did the job very effectively.”
Josh giggled. “You know just what to say, baby,” he cooed. “You know how to
make me feel like a woman.”
Ryan pinched Josh’s nipple and Josh squeaked. Ryan smiled softly and rested his
head on Josh’s chest, content to finally let himself relax.
. . .
Ryan woke up screaming and drenched in sweat, crying from a nightmare he wasn’t
sure was over.
Ray was holding Ryan’s arms down and Mikey was holding down his legs and Ryan
was totally flashing them with his junk, jesus. He felt like a fucking mess, a
basket case, a psycho or something worse.
Ryan was becoming a fucking mental patient.
His heart was hammering in his chest and he couldn’t swallow because it felt
like his throat was sewn shut. He wanted to claw under his skin and dig out
whatever was making him feel like the world was spinning on its axis. He felt
light headed and heated and nauseous and dizzy and this was hell.
Ryan wasn’t sure if he was screaming anymore because he couldn’t hear anything
past the blood swimming in his ears. He’d wondered if this was enough of a
physical and mental toll to end the dreams simply by necessity, like the
anorexic girl Travis had told him about.
“Ryan?” Josh called out weakly.
Ryan forced his eyes open and looked up at Josh. “Hi.”
Josh swallowed so hard that Ryan could see his Adam’s apple bob. “What
happened?”
“A nightmare,” Ryan said softly. He couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t even put
any sort of emotion in his expression, let alone his voice. The fear was ebbing
and his heart was beginning to slow, leaving him drained.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Josh asked.
He just shrugged.
“You’ve got a big dick,” Mikey said. He always said the first thing that came
to mind when he was stressed out.
Ryan laughed hollowly.
“I mean it,” Mikey said. “I know I’ve said it, I’ve totally said it, and it’s
true, jesus. Look at that, Ray.”
“I’m not looking at Ryan’s dick,” Ray choked out, sounding like he was laughing
a bit in incredulousness. “Mikey, why do you want me to look at his dick? It’s
not your dick, it’s not mine. It’s just a dick. It’s the dick of our friend.
This is creepy.”
“But it’s so huge,” Mikey groaned.
“You really like big dicks,” Josh snorted.
“I’m staring down at the dick of my best fiend and I can’t think past what’s
happening because there’s a giant penis in front of me,” Mikey said.
“I’m gonna lose my shit if you don’t stop,” Josh giggled.
“You’re crazy,” Ray said.
“I like to appear unstable,” Mikey responded.
“Can I please have some pants?” Ryan asked with the smallest of grins. “Or a
blanket. Just something to cover up my huge dick so Mikey can stop drooling
like a fool.” He winked weakly at Mikey. “I know that you like what you’re
seeing, but could you maybe control yourself before you cream your pants?”
Mikey smirked, then moaned dramatically, fanning himself and pretending to
swoon. “Let’s get physical.”
“So I have permission to kick you in the face,” Ryan said. “Awesome.
Mikey shrieked and dropped off the bed, laughing as he attempted to dodge a
kick Ryan hadn’t even thrown yet, and he probably wouldn’t even throw at all.
Ryan giggled and gratefully took the pants Josh handed him.
. . .
“I now have an EpiPen.“ Josh read from his phone. “My friend gave it to me as
he was dying. It seemed really important to him that I have it.”
Ray snickered and Mikey groaned at the situational irony. They were all siting
on the couch, waiting for Tyler and Jenna to get home. Josh had reportedly told
Tyler about what Ryan had attempted and wasn’t very happy, so he was nervous.
Ryan was scared that Tyler would yell at him, even though he doubted that Tyler
was that kind of person.
“Jesus, can you imagine being that dumb?” Mikey asked as he played with Ray’s
hair. “Or, like, knowing someone that dumb. Having to put up with all that
bullshit, day in and day out, keeping the idiot from killing you with their
stupid decisions.”
“I think Ray, Josh, and I know that pain rather well,” Ryan said forlornly. He
stared at Mikey in an incriminating manner.
Mikey scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You jumped out of a moving car because you wanted to see what would happen,”
Ryan reminded him bluntly.
Mikey pursed his lips, thinking. “Well, at least now I know how to hit the
ground.”
Ryan snorted and shook his head.
The front door open and all the camaraderie slipped out of the room. Ryan
whimpered and sank in the couch like he was trying to hide between the
cushions. Josh squirmed closer to Ryan and put an arm around Ryan’s shoulders
to keep him close. He really appreciated the comfort of Josh’s body against his
and huddled closer.
Tyler walked into the living room and sat heavily on the floor in front of the
sofa— in front of Ryan. He stared at Ryan’s arms.
“So you didn’t slit your wrists,” he murmured. He then looked up at Ryan’s
neck. “Didn’t hang yourself.” Then Ryan’s chest. “Probably didn’t jump. Didn’t
shoot yourself or anything.” He sighed and nodded. “Pills, then, right?” Tyler
gave a dispirited smile. “That’s the way most people choose. Because they want
to be found before they actually die. It’s the least reliable method. Lest
effective.”
“But also the most peaceful,” Ryan mumbled. “Just… you fall asleep.”
“Fall asleep,” Tyler repeated softly. “You wanted to see Brendon.”
Ryan shrugged. “Didn’t even make him dream. He won’t be there if I die. Even if
it’s slow.”
Tyler nodded. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry too,” he replied sadly. “I-I didn’t mean to break my promise. I
just…” He shrugged again. “I wanted to know if Brendon would be sad. Because
even after everything, he wants Sarah to save him.”
Tyler cringed. “Yeah, uh, I can see how that can be discouraging.”
Ryan smiled despondently. “Feels pretty hopeless. Can’t even bring him into a
dream when I’m dying. Like I’m not important to him at all. I-I know that the
body has very few decision making privileges in these situations, but I still
hate it.”
“I understand,” Tyler said. “Just… Next time you feel that empty, call me. Or
Josh, or someone. Don’t go through something like that alone. We might not be
so lucky next time.”
Ryan bit his lip before leaning forward and bending down, resting his head on
Tyler’s shoulder.
Tyler wrapped his arms around Ryan and held on tight. “Love you, kiddo.”
. . .
“I just got off the phone with Gee,” Mikey told Ryan softly later that night.
He’d pulled Ryan away from the YouTube marathon of Markiplier and PewDiePie and
scary game players like that after disappearing for over an hour for a phone
call. Now Ryan knew he’d been talking to Gerard and that made him nervous.
“W-what did he say?” Ryan asked. His fingers were tugging nervously at the hem
of his jeans and his toe was tapping erratically.
“He said that he’s sorry for yelling at you,” Mikey sighed. “And that he needed
the time alone to sort things out. You know how he gets about suicide. He, he
loses his mind to the panic. He sees himself in every suicide attempt and
victim. He’s scared of what he would’ve lost if he’d gone through with it all
these years ago. And he’s still angry with himself for succumbing to a attempt.
He just took it out on you.”
Ryan’s brow creased. “Are you sure that’s it?”
“Uh, that’s what he said.”
Ryan bit his lip. “I think that isn’t why he was so upset. I think he just felt
abandoned,” Ryan suggested. “After your parents turned their backs on you, the
only people he has left from high school besides you and Frank is me. He didn’t
know the others all that well. I think he was just pissed that I was thinking
so selfishly.”
Mikey winced. “You think so? I mean, I don’t think you were being selfish. Just
impulsive. But you had your reasons and it made sense for what was happening,
even though I don’t like it. I know that I would probably do the same as you
did.”
“Really?” Ryan asked skeptically. “You’re a lot more well grounded than I am.”
“Because I haven’t been through the shit you have,” Mikey replied simply.
“Think about it. When I fall asleep, I just sleep and I wake up rested. I have
my soulmate, I have a pretty steady life. The worst is behind me.”
Ryan grimaced. “And what? Mine’s not even close to over?”
Mikey didn’t respond.
Ryan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You don’t think this is going to end well,
do you?”
“I can’t see how it could.”
. . .
Brendon didn’t say a word to Ryan the next night. He only stumbled forward and
dropped into Ryan’s lap, holding onto Ryan’s shirt and shaking.
Ryan held him close and finally remembered why he was still fighting for
something he’d never have.
. . .
Gerard came to pick them up from Josh’s and had hugged Ryan for nearly ten
minutes.
. . .
With the end of winter, and then spring, Ryan went into summer with bad posture
and bruises under his eyes. The narcolepsy was worse than it’d been in the
beginning and he barely passed his classes. He was grateful to only have one
year left in school.
Brendon was being beaten like a fucking slave or something worse and Ryan
wasn’t going to give up. Mikey, Ray, Frank, Gerard, Josh, even Pete, everyone
had watched Ryan like hawks and jumped on any sign that could hint towards Ryan
falling apart again. He appreciated it. Though it would get really annoying to
answer endless questions about why he was leaving the room and having to
explain himself when he was in the bathroom for more than five seconds, he felt
loved. He felt cared for and watched over and while Brendon wasn’t affectionate
or even really grateful for Ryan, his family more than made up for it.
Pete had been especially shaken when he’d heard of Ryan’s suicide attempt. It
wasn’t something you could just bounce back from. Ryan finally agreed to
anxiety medication because he wanted to show that he was making an effort, and
also silence the others in suggesting more drastic measures. They wouldn’t
suggest ending the dreams if Ryan was popping pills.
Ryan was patient with the nagging and the panic and the constant careful
watching from the others. He’d put them through hell and he felt like shit for
it. He was happy to humor them. He wanted to make it up to them.
. . .
“What do you mean you want me to dress you up?” Mikey giggled as he did
laundry.
Ryan shrugged. “Josh is gonna take me to some Mexican place that’s supposed to
be really nice. I wanted to look just as nice to surprise him. You know, put
some kind of effort into this to match the effort he’s already given.”
“Well, I’ll give you something of mine to wear, and I’ll fix your hair up. Free
of charge,” Mikey added with a wink.
Ryan smirked. “Well, it is your job, after all.”
Mikey fell silent.
Ryan’s smirk fell to a frown. “What’s wrong?”
The other man shook his head. “I think I’m gonna quit the salon,” he murmured.
“Wait, for real?”
Mikey nodded. “It’s not something I want to do. I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like
cutting hair for a bunch of stuck up assholes who think they’re better than me
just because they make six figures. And I don’t even really like cutting hair
if I don’t get a say. Most people want shitty or boring hairstyles.”
Ryan could understand that. “So what’re you gonna do instead?”
“I have no idea,” Mikey admitted shakily. “All I know is that I can’t keep
doing this. It’s not the life I want.”
“Well, I’m with you one hundred percent,” Ryan assured him. “So is Ray. And
Gee. And everyone else. Do what you gotta do and we’ll be right there to keep
you on your feet.”
Mikey smiled a bit. “Thanks, Ry,” he said. “And I mean, Gee followed his dreams
no matter how many people told him it would be impossible. His real dream. Not
the dream he settled for. He didn’t give up and now he’s gotta all these
awesome comics and he’s working with Marvel on the Spider-Woman stuff and if he
can do it, so can I.”
“You absolutely can,” Ryan agreed. “I believe in you,” he added with a cheesy
grin.
Mikey chuckled and shoved Ryan back playfully. “Go to the bathroom and wash
your hair,” he said. “But don’t dry it. I’ll be in there to style it and then
I’ll grab you some clothes.”
. . .
“Ryan?”
Ryan looked up at Brendon, and managed a smile. He’d been talking with Brendon,
just talking. Brendon didn’t want Ryan to kiss him anymore, or at least, he
didn’t bring it up. Ryan hoped things were going back to normal between them,
or as normal as it could be. He would be grateful for Brendon to talk about
Sarah and only Sarah compared to this brokenness.
“Did you go somewhere, Ryan?” Brendon asked.
Ryan frowned, then haltingly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Brendon bit his lip and scooted a bit closer across the floor. Five years, and
this floor was still the most uncomfortable thing Ryan had ever sat on in his
life. He was starting to understand that the pain was the point.
“Just, a few months ago, you felt…” Brendon shrugged. “I-I felt you slip away?
Which, I know it doesn’t make sense, but it should. We weren’t asleep or
anything, just, in the middle of it, in the middle of whatever I was doing, I
suddenly felt like… Like a part inside me was just, sort of, slipping away. I
didn’t realize I had that part. It’s like you’ve always been a physical thing
inside my heart and I’ve never realized it. And I just felt that part start to
die? It felt like it was dying.” Brendon began to look scared. “Ryan? Did, d-
did you die?”
Ryan seriously debated not telling Brendon the truth.
“I tried to,” he finally confessed.
Brendon let out this sort of shattered noise of pain from the back of his
throat. He scrambled forward and pulled Ryan into the tightest hug he’d ever
been given.
“W-why would you try to leave?” he whimpered.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said quickly. “I really am, you need to know that. I can’t
explain what I did beyond wanting to know if you would care if something
happened to me.”
“Are you for real?” Brendon asked incredulously. “Of course I would care!
You’re my best friend, Ryan, I-I wouldn’t be here without you! How could you
think that?!”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan repeated. “I lost sight of what I know,” he tried to explain.
“I just wanted to see if you would miss me, but it didn’t even work.”
“What do you mean it didn’t work?”
Ryan winced. “I mean, you didn’t fall asleep. Even though I was dying. I can’t
do anything to bring you into a dream with me like you can.”
“I can do that?”
He nodded. “Whenever you fall asleep, I fall asleep with you.”
Brendon looked surprised. “So can you fall asleep without me?”
Ryan nodded again. “But I don’t sleep well,” he sighed. “I don’t get to be with
you, so I’m just left with the nightmares on my head. It’s restless sleep. It’s
barely even sleep. I’m either scared or going in and out. I’d rather spend the
night with you.”
Brendon smiled a bit, but it was drowned and washed away by an expression of
heartbreak. “You can’t really think that I don’t care enough about you to not
miss you.”
Ryan looked away.
“Ryan,” Brendon whined, utterly distraught. “Ryan, I-I love you! I’ve said
that! You, you know that I love you, right? You know that I need you. You know
that I have to have you with me, every night, to get me through the day. I
can’t do this without you! I spent so long trying to drive you away, and those
were the worst days of my life, because I need you.” He tugged at his hair.
“Ryan, I-I felt you die! Doesn’t that mean anything?!”
“I’m so sorry,” Ryan choked out.
“I-I could hit you!” Brendon cried out. “I won’t! I don’t think I can, I don’t
think I can hit you, I don’t think I can hit anyone, but I want to!” His hands
were shaking as he pulled at the bottom of his ratty shirt. Ryan noticed old
bits of glue left over from a sequin design. “You’re so mean,” Brendon said,
his voice trembling. Ryan was scared to realize he was beginning to cry. “How
could you do this to me?”
“I never meant to hurt you,” Ryan said. “I never meant to hurt anyone. But, but
that’s all I did. I just, I hurt all of my friends and family and I made some
of them really mad and I feel like shit, I really do, B, you have to believe me
when I say that I regret it. I regret it more than anything I’ve ever done.”
“I-If you try to leave me again, I-I’m following you,” Brendon sobbed. “I’m
coming after you a-and you can’t ever leave me again.”
Ryan nodded and opened his arms for Brendon. He half expected Brendon to deny
him and maybe even push him again, but he was willing to try. Brendon looked
torn, like he didn’t even want to let Ryan comfort him, but he eventually just
gave in.
Brendon tumbled into Ryan’s arms and held on tight as he shook. It was
bittersweet and almost sickening for Ryan, because fuck, Brendon still loved
him and needed him and wanted him around, but Ryan had hurt him in a way he’d
never imagined he could. A moment of weakness had ruined so many things in his
life and he was never going to take what Brendon was wiling to give him for
granted.
“Don’t leave me,” Brendon begged.
“Never,” Ryan promised. “I’ll never leave you.”
. . .
When Ryan woke up, he looked at his phone and checked his email for news on a
group project he was doing with two other students that involved something
about the mental health of the elderly in assisted living. Something about
their inability to keep spirits up and how frequent acts of suicide or
impulsiveness were common.
Ryan frowned when he saw an email titled “135.”

Dear Mr Ryan Ross
My name is Sarah and I am loking a frend of mine is soul mate. his name is Ryan
Ross. I have been loking for a very long tiem and yu are one of the listed
names in th phone book. I found yur email thru face book. pleas reply if yu now
my frend.
Sarah O
Chapter End Notes
     are you excited for this because i'm excited for this
     fuck yeah
***** He Could Feel the Atoms Inside His Body Waking Up *****
Chapter Summary
     things might go well for a change
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ryan stared at the email and nearly hyperventilated.
This was it. This was how he was going to find Brendon. He’d spent so long
resenting Sarah for how much she meant to Brendon, and yet here she was,
holding a fucking hand out to Ryan, a fucking life preserver, throwing a line
to Ryan who was drowning in a fucking ocean of hopelessness. He couldn’t
believe this was happening.
“Mikey!” Ryan suddenly screamed, his mind going from zero to a hundred miles
per hour in a matter of milliseconds. “Mikey! Come here!”
He could hear Mikey’s clumsy footsteps stomp down the hall that led to Ryan’s
room. There was a sort of panic to his gait and Ryan prematurely realized that
he probably sounded like he was hurt or something, and not just excited beyond
reason. Jesus, Ryan probably sounded like he was scared or hurt or about to
hurt himself. He sounded like he was screaming for help.
Ryan stood and opened the door just before Mikey could. “I’m okay,” he rushed
to say. “I’m fine. I’m okay, I’m not hurt, it’s all okay.”
Mikey looked frazzled and fucking terrified. He let out this long, ragged sigh
of relief and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “You scared
me,” he said. There was a tremble of anxiety to his voice that sent a pang of
guilt through Ryan’s gut.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I am. I just, I-I need to show you
something.”
Mikey bit his lip, hesitating. But he nodded and stepped into the room. Mikey
made to close the door, like he thought what Ryan was going to show him was
private, but Ryan waved off the gesture, then reopened the door.
“I’m gonna show them too,” he explained, before going back to his bed and
sitting, pulling his laptop into view for Mikey, who sat beside him. “Check
this out.”
Mikey was quiet as he read the message. His expression remained schooled. “Is
this real?”
“I think so,” Ryan said. “How else would she know? Unless someone is in my
head, and magically knows my first and last name, and also the name of
Brendon’s best friend. How else do you explain this?”
“It could be someone from Brendon’s family,” Mikey response uneasily. “Haven’t
you thought of that? This could be one of his parents. Or a sibling. This could
be one of those monsters, who would be fucking ecstatic to hurt you. This could
be someone who wants to ruin you, maybe even kill you. You can’t just take
this. You can’t respond to this. Not until we know for sure.”
Ryan bristled with irrational anger. He knew Mikey had a good point, Mikey
always had a fucking good point, but Mikey also didn’t get it. He hadn’t had to
wait nearly six fucking years for his soulmate. Mikey hadn’t gone through the
hell Ryan had, and Ryan was fucking desperate at this point. After six years of
standing by and just watching Brendon fall apart, he was finally being given an
opportunity to save him.
“Please don’t be angry,” Mikey said. “Look, just, you can reply to this, okay?
But be careful. Only say Brendon’s name so whoever it is will know you’re
legit, but don’t agree to anything. See if you can find out if it really is
Sarah. Ask her something only she could know, from Brendon.You have to be
careful. How did she even get a computer? Or a Facebook? I thought she was in
the same sort of family situation that Brendon was?”
Ryan shrugged, not really caring enough to answer that question right now. He
was grasping at straws, and after enacting useless attempts to reach Brendon
for years, had developed tunnel-vision towards the endgame. Getting Brendon
away from that hell, to a new, safe, happier home.
“Can I get Ray in here?” Mikey asked softly. “And Gee and Frank? Ray’s probably
gonna be good at this cause of his dad, or at least, better than we are. And
Gee’s really a pessimist and Frank evens that out and I think this should be
all of us, brainstorming. I want you to find Brendon, and I want you to have
him in your life, in person, but we have to be careful. There are some evil
people out there. You know that.”
Ryan was frowning and refusing to look at Mikey, but he grumbled his consent,
because again, Mikey always had a good point. “Get them in here,” he huffed,
crossing his arms. He kept reading over the email and tried to remember
everything Brendon had to him about Sarah. He could have sworn that Sarah had
been teaching Brendon to read and write, but this grammar was ghastly. He
couldn’t imagine why. He struggled for an explanation. And Mikey had raised
another good point— how was it that Sarah could suddenly access a computer, out
of the blue? And get a Facebook, of all things? What had changed? What had
happened since Brendon was locked back up in that house?
Ryan had so many fucking questions, and sitting, metaphorically, in front of
him was a girl who could answer all of them, but Mikey wasn’t going to let him
respond without a fucking Summit meeting and it was frustrating. He just wanted
to reach Brendon, finally, after so long. He wanted to hold Brendon in his
arms, his real arms, and feel Brendon breathe and just know he was alive and
well because if he was with Ryan, then he sure as hell wasn’t with his
monstrous family. Ryan was confident that he would be able to provide stability
and care for Brendon’s recovery. He’d spent six years learning how to handle
people that had gone through things similar to Brendon’s situation, and he knew
it would be okay, it had to be okay.
“Mikey?” Ray called out as he walked into the room. Ryan hadn’t heard Mikey
speak, so he must have texted the others, or something even lazier. “Is
everything okay?” Gerard and Frank came up behind Ray, all three of them
wearing expressions of worry.
Ryan perked up, hoping they would be more supportive than Mikey. Less dreary
and doom-y and shit, because Ryan really wanted to be happy about this, he
really just wanted to feel good about what was happening between him and
Brendon for once. He wanted a fucking silver lining. If they weren’t for Ryan
contacting Sarah either, he would go to Josh and Tyler. Surely they wouldn’t be
so paranoid.
“It’s Sarah,” Ryan said, turning around the computer around in his hand so Gee
and Frank and Ray could see. “She’s looking for me. Or, she’s looking for the
right Ryan Ross, which is me. I’m gonna respond.”
“Is she autistic?” Ray asked out of the fucking blue.
Ryan frowned. “What?”
“Yeah, what?” Mikey also asked.
“Persons living with autism show a ability to excel in one particular area in
life, while lacking in all others,” Ray said. Ryan realized he had a point. “I
mean, this may be out of the blue, but she could possibly be autistic. She
excels in the woods, right? With nature? Like you told us? It would explain her
lacking in grammar and spelling.”
“I think it’s too soon to say she’s autistic,” Gerard said with an
understanding smile. “Maybe we should just deal with the email.”
“I need to reply, right?”
Frank snorted. “Are you kidding? Fuck yeah! This is it! This is the fucking
moment we’ve been waiting for! Of course you need to reply!”
“Not necessarily,” Ray winced. “This could be a trap. She might not be who she
says she is.”
Ryan’s face fell. “Not you too.”
“I’m with Ray,” Gerard sighed, looking like he regretted telling Ryan that he
shouldn’t reply. “This could be Brendon’s parents or something.”
“That’s what I said,” Mikey cut in, sounding vindicated. “They could be looking
for Ryan to kill him or something. This could turn out to be really bad. You’ve
got to be patient and just wait. Take your time and find him on your own.”
“Don’t any of you fucking understand?” Ryan asked, beginning to get outwardly
upset. “I can’t find him. I’ve been trying to find him for years, you fucking
know that. If I let this opportunity pass, I may never get it again. I’m going
to reply whether you think I should or not. I’m not going to miss out on this
chance. I am not going to let Brendon slip through my fingers. Playing it save
has nearly killed me. It’s time that I dive into this headfirst.”
“I’m with you,” Frank said, grinning toothily. “All you other assholes, get
out. Ryan and I are going to compose the most amazing email response since the
nineties.”
Ryan smiled shakily up at Frank in relief. While he was excited and confident
in his decision to contact Sarah, he was really grateful to have Frank in the
room to help him, help keep his nerves down and make sure he didn’t fuck
something up.
Gerard sighed again and did as told, pulling Mikey along behind him. Ray
followed Mikey obediently, like a dog following its master, but Ray was a
Tibetan Mastiff and Mikey was just Mikey. It was a cute little mental exercise
for Ryan, and he had half a mind to find someone who could draw and put Ray in
a giant dog costume, or maybe just a spiked collar. He’d give it to Mikey for
his birthday.
“Dude, you with me?” Frank called out, actually snapping his fingers in front
of Ryan’s nose.
Ryan startled and flailed, slapping Frank’s hand out of his face. “Don’t be a
dick,” he giggled. “Sorry, I zoned out.”
“Those pills help, huh?” Frank asked softly.
Ryan shrugged. “They’re not like Gerard’s.”
“Gee had a mixture of painkillers and muscles relaxers,” Frank explained. “They
were anti-anxiety in the sense that they just killed his body’s ability to
tense up. What you’re taking is involved with the brain, not the body. It’s
gonna feel different.”
Ryan just nodded. “What should I say?”
“Uh, say your name,” Frank said. “Wait, wait, don’t say your name,” he suddenly
corrected. “Okay, uh, say your name, yeah, say your name. She obviously already
knows it. And then you ask for something that she would know, and only her. Ask
her about a bird or something that Brendon’s told you. So you can make sure
that it’s her. And if it is, ask her where she is and where Brendon is and how
you can reach him.”
Ryan nodded, but still didn’t move to type anything, even though ideas were
flowing through his mind. “What if it isn’t her?” he asked a bit shakily.
Frank shrugged. “Then we don’t give whoever it is our address. It’s not like
they can trace you to this state, let alone this house. They’re hicks and
hillbillies, abusive, religious fascists. They’re not rocket scientists or
computer geniuses. The worst they could do is send you a mean email or Bible
verses. She said she found this email on Facebook, right? You don’t have your
address showing. You only have your email up for academics. They can’t reach
you beyond this.”
“You’re right,” Ryan breathed, relaxing a bit. “I’m safe. It can’t hurt to
respond, no matter who this is. They can’t hurt me.”
“And even if they knew where you lived, they still couldn’t hurt you,” Frank
giggled. “I’ll dropkick them. Josh will run them over with the food truck, Gee
and Mikey will hide the bodies, and Ray will cover it all up. We literally
can’t lose.”
“We can totally lose,” Ryan scoffed, though he appreciated Frank’s confidence
in their ability to protect him.
“Dude, you should totally, like, talk about how well you know Brendon,” Frank
said, going back to the email response. “Cause, you know, once she convinces
you that she is actually Sarah, you’ve got to convince her that you’re actually
Ryan. You can’t expect her to just trust you too. You gotta tell her things
about Brendon that only she could know, too. Oh, oh! Tell her about your wings!
I’ll bet he’s told her all about your wings. And tell her about what you do and
what you’re studying. And tell her about us!”
“She won’t know me,” Ryan murmured.
“Are you kidding?” Frank asked incredulously. “She knows your name, Ryan.
That’s proof that she’s heard a lot about you. There’s no telling what she
could know, but I know she has to know a lot.” He smirked. “I’ll bet Brendon
just obsesses over you.”
Ryan blushed and smiled shyly. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely,” Frank promised. “Okay, so, start with your name and asking who
she is.”
. . .
Sarah,
This is Ryan Ross, the one you’re looking for. I’m a psychology student. I’ve
been with Brendon in his dreams for the past five years, almost six. I would
like to reach him. I need to find him. Can you help me?
-R.R.
. . .
“Brendon’s birthday is coming up,” Mikey told Ryan with a smile.
Ryan arched a brow. “How’d you know?”
“I’m psychic,” he giggled. “No, I actually read the date on the calendar in
your phone. Anyways, we were thinking that since you’re, like, twenty-four now,
we would actually celebrate. We’ve never really done anything major for your
birthday cause, just, everything piled up and it was stressful and not very
fun. None of us were really relaxed around April. So, we were think we’d have
some fun.”
“What kind of fun?” Ryan asked cautiously. Sometimes, Mikey’s definition was
very different from his own.
“We were gonna throw you a party,” he giggled. “At Six Flags.”
Ryan’s expression flattened. “I hate Six Flags.”
Mikey immediately began to pout. “Just because you had a bad experience when
you were, like, five, doesn’t mean they’re all gonna be bad.”
“You call my dad getting drunk and leaving me behind a bad experience?” Ryan
asked. “I nearly got kidnapped by some fucking weirdo who smelled like moth
balls. The police brought me home, and they arrested my dad for being drunk in
public because he was passed out in our front lawn. I didn't eat for two days
because he was in a fucking cell. I hate Six Flags, Mikey. I’m not going.”
“Good thing we’re not going to Six Flags, then,” Mikey huffed. “Cause we’re
actually going to Hard Rock Café. And we’re gonna make it Beatles themed. Ray
ordered some shit from England online. It’s gonna be awesome. And not Six
Flags.”
“Thank you,” Ryan sighed.
“We’re not assholes,” Mikey said. “We wouldn’t make you go back there.”
“I was in such a good mood,” Ryan groaned. “Why must you tease?”
“Josh and Tyler and Jenna are gonna be there,” Mikey said, like he hadn’t heard
Ryan. “And Pete’s gonna try and make it. So is Patrick. They may bring Andy and
Joe along, just so we can all get to know each other.”
“My birthday is just an excuse for you guys to have a huge “getting to know
you” shindig, huh?”
Mikey pursed his lips. “We’re not using you, Ryan.”
Ryan ducked his head and nodded. “I know,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “Just,
yeah. Kinda nervous.”
“Did you reply to Sarah?”
“Yeah,” he affirmed. “She hasn’t replied. It’s been just two days, and I know
she probably doesn’t have a lot of access to a computer, but I’m still really
anxious. Kinda like waiting for exam results for a final or something. I don’t
know what to do. Should I reply again? Resend it? Just in case she didn’t get
it or didn’t notice? I-I wonder if any of the other Ryan Ross’s responded and
pretended to be me. Fuck, w-what if one of them hurts her?”
“Then you’ll never find Brendon,” Mikey murmured, looking discouraged.
Ryan paused. “And, uh, she’ll die?” he reminded the other man. “Or be hurt?
Cause she’s also a human being?”
“Didn’t you write a paper on learned apathy?” Mikey asked.
“About how we, as a sole human being, ignore the distress of persons not
intricately related to us simply because we cannot handle the emotional and
psychological strain of worrying about every person for every little thing.”
Ryan smiled fondly to himself. He’d gotten a really good grade on that paper.
“We accuse people of not caring about those starving kids in Africa, but it’s
impossible for us to care about everyone. It would kill us. The stress would
just kill us, we’d all drop dead.” He shrugged. “It’s cruel, but it’s what we
have to do to survive. You receive so much stress from your own life. We’d
collapse from too much if we cared about every orphan and stray dog and poor
person in a third world country.”
“You must be so popular,” Mikey said sarcastically. “You have to have so many
friends.”
“I have, like…” Ryan paused, actually counting his fingers. “Eight,” he
finalized. “I have eight friends. Nine, if Patrick counts.”
“Patrick counts.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “You think?”
Mikey shrugged. “I mean, I’m not him. But he seemed pretty grateful for the way
you were on his side with the whole Pete fiasco. But why does it matter? You’re
held in the highest regard among us. You don’t need the approval of others.
You’ve never needed it before.”
“I just don’t want Pete to start avoiding me because Patrick and I don’t get
along,” Ryan admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I know Pete’s with me for the long
haul, but I’d like to make his visits more frequent, if I can help it. If
Patrick likes me too, then Pete will be more likely to visit because Patrick
can come along.”
“You’ve got a point,” Mikey conceded. “Fuck, what if Patrick doesn’t like me?”
“Everyone likes you,” Ryan snorted. “Don’t be fucking dumb.”
Mikey looked very proud of himself.
. . .
Are yu really Mr Ryan Ross?
. . .
Ryan felt his heart race as he read Sarah’s response. He wasn’t sure where to
go from here. He knew he could either ask for Sarah to prove who she was, or
prove who he was. Ryan wasn’t very scared of Brendon’s family reaching him even
if this was actually them, so maybe he should reassure Sarah he was the real
deal first.
. . .
George Ryan Ross. I live in Chicago and I’m a psychology student. I live with
Gerard and Frank and Ray and Mikey. My best friend Pete is in a band called
Fall Out Boy. I used to sing their songs to Brendon when he was little. I like
the Beatles. He gave me wings when he was a kid.
I would die for him, Sarah.
Please. Please help me find him. I’m begging you.
. . .
Ryan remembered learning of how orphans and foster kids in foster homes would
often disobey rules, get out of bed, and sleep on the floor together. It was
something about the physical comfort and reassurance that they weren’t alone in
their own personal hells. The worse the foster home treatment, the more
severely the kids became attached to each other, unless the foster parents
worked to pit them against one another through competition of resources.
That always led to development of the Hostile Attributional Bias. HAB was this
awful cycle of instinct. The sufferer inference situations to be of hostile
intent, which led to aggressive retaliation, and that caused hostile
counterattacks and rejection by peers, which reinforced the sufferer’s
expectancies of peer’s hostile intent, that lead to a biased scanning of social
cues, that then met back with making situational inferences of hostile intent,
and so on. Ryan had almost been caught in that same web. When your own father
couldn’t stand your existence, and your mother didn’t want you, it was hard to
imagine that anyone else could.
Another thing Ryan learned was that the best way to get the world moving on a
problem was to create a body count. America was a dead kid powered machine. But
that only applied to kids with families, with futures. If a foster kid died, no
one gave a shit. People didn’t care once the child wasn’t seen as conducive to
society.
That’s what Ryan was scared of. If he didn’t do this right, if he didn’t get
Brendon at the right moment, Brendon’s parents would call someone or do
something. Brendon couldn’t stay with Ryan legally, and police would be after
him for running away. Ryan could be accused of kidnapping. Ryan would be put in
jail and Brendon would be put back with his parents, or even the system. Ryan
wouldn’t be able to do anything with a record. He would probably be accused of
actual pedophilia, jesus, fuck.
“You have to be careful,” Ray sighed. “It’s hard to do things like take a kid
away from his family without ruining lives on both ends.”
“The courts will always try and keep the kid with his mother,” Ryan sighed.
“They just can’t understand the fact that women are more likely to hurt their
families than men.”
“For real?” Ray asked.
Ryan nodded. “With psychological disorders in involved, women are more likely
to hurt their families. Men are more likely to hurt strangers. It’s just part
of social cues and expectations and shit. The men are supposed to protect their
families while the women only know their families.” He shrugged. “I mean, most
of it isn’t cut and dry, and it takes about two weeks to learn everything you
need to know about it, but it always come as a shock to most people.”
“I just thought it would be the other way around,” Ray said. “Because usually
it’s the fathers that are the abusive ones.”
“Your mother abuses you in her own way,” Ryan murmured, almost hoping that Ray
didn’t hear him.
Ray paused. “What was it like?” he asked softly. “When she left?”
“Mikey told you?”
Ray nodded.
Ryan shrugged. “Just like any other thing like it. She had her bags packed, I
came home from school and saw them. I asked her where she was going, she said
away from my dad. I asked her when she was gonna come back. She didn’t answer.
I asked her if I could come. And she just laughed and went out the door.”
“You’re pretty levelheaded for someone who went through that,” Ray observed.
“It was all the psyche classes,” Ryan explained with a small grin. “I was a
mess in high school, really. Moody and angst-filled. I played the guitar and
wrote a lot of music, had a book full of lyrics, I think I still have it
somewhere. Figured myself to be some sort of higher being because I’d suffered.
I didn’t know Brendon. I hadn’t met him yet.”
“Teenagers like to think of themselves as being more intelligent than adults
because they haven’t given up yet,” Ray replied. “I’ve just figured out that
they haven’t seen the way the world tries to crush your dreams. Adults aren’t
stupid or anything. They’re just exhausted.” Ray paused again. “Except bigots.
Of all ages. They’re just fucking stupid.”
Ryan only hummed noncommittally. “Everyone has their own demons to outrun.
Sometimes we can’t escape them and we drown.”
“This is making me sad,” Ray said abruptly. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Ryan wanted to critique Ray’s sudden need to run from the things he didn’t want
to think about, but he couldn’t hold it against the other man. Certain things
hurt some people more than others. Certain songs could trigger suicidal
thoughts, the words a person says could mean something completely different to
someone else. He wasn’t going to look down on Ray for needing to change the
subject. Ray could be avoiding something even darker than Ryan’s own thoughts.
. . .
Pete tackled Ryan to the ground when he and Patrick arrived. Ryan held onto the
shorter man and just waited it out, being patient. Pete hadn’t actually seen
him since the mess with Patrick, and he knew Pete had been shaken by Ryan’s
suicide attempt more than he’d originally let on. Ryan was sure that Pete had
always hoped Ryan wouldn’t actually kill himself if he’d never met Brendon.
Ryan was sure Pete had always thought Ryan wouldn’t be able to go through with
it. Not like Pete had considered when he was younger.
Ryan was sure Pete was much more mad at Ryan than he’d said he was. He’d been
surprised to be met with a hug, and not a fist to the gut.
“I’m gonna kick you in the balls,” Pete mumbled, and yeah, that was more along
the lines of what Ryan had been expecting.
“Of course you will,” he hummed in apathetic response.
“I’m serious,” Pete insisted. “I’m gonna kick you. Jesus, fuck. I’m just glad
you’re okay again.”
Ryan nodded.
Pete pulled back after kissing Ryan’s temple, which was an uncharacteristic
physical display of affection from Pete. Pete was an affection guy, yeah, but
only from the waist to the neck. He only ever kissed Patrick in cute ways like
that.
“You okay?” Ryan asked him, a bit surprised.
“We’re gonna watch a movie,” Pete said. “And cuddle. And I’ve brought a
stethoscope and I’m gonna listen to your heartbeat and keep my fingers on your
wrist so I can have your pulse right there, and only then will I be okay.” Pete
looked horrifically anxious, gnawing on his lower lip and staring at Ryan like
he was scared he’d disappear. “I just… I don’t know. Even though you talked
about it, I never thought you’d ever go through with that.”
“I kinda suspected as much,” Ryan sighed.
“You’ve never been the type of person to do something that fucking permanent,”
Pete tried to explain, sounding almost pained. “You’ve been hurt by a lot of
people and you never really need to hurt yourself.”
“I’m always fucking astounded at how well you know me,” Ryan mumbled.
“Just, you’ve had problems, but not emotionally,” Pete continued. “You’ve been
beaten by other people, so you never really developed anything wrong with your
head. Or had anything wrong with your head. Fuck, I-I’m not saying this right.”
“Take your time,” Ryan said softly. “It’s okay.”
Pete tugged at his hair. Ryan noticed he’d bleached it.
“I started having something wrong with myself and not much else,” Pete fumbled
to put to words. “I mean, yeah, my life could be seen as fucking shitty, but it
was nothing like yours. I had my parents and they loved me. I had great friends
and stuff. And I guess, since I wasn’t so actually worried about my physical
well being, I fucked up my own mental well being. You didn’t have that. You had
physical problems that weren’t from your brain chemistry being a mess. You
didn’t have time to think yourself to death because you had to watch your
back.”
“You’re talking like I was abused,” Ryan observed with a chuckle, because he
had no other way to cope with the memories Pete was causing to resurface. He’d
never let on how he’d struggled with his own sense of worth after his mother
left without saying she loved him.
“You were neglected,” Pete said. “Isn’t that abuse?”
Ryan shrugged, because he didn’t want to say Pete was right and recognize his
own, somewhat broken, childhood.
“If you were going to do something like that, like kill yourself, you would
have done it much sooner,” Pete murmured. “It took until now for you to break.
I guess you were just waiting for it to get better, and when it did, you waited
again for it to get worse. Does that make sense?’
Ryan grimaced. “Not really.”
Pete groaned and nodded. “I give up,” he said. “I play bass. I’m not a
teacher.”
Ryan smirked. “Food?”
“Food,” Pete moaned, reaching for his phone to order.
. . .
Mr Ross
Ar yu for sure? cause i do not no where brendan is. i was taken by th people in
th sunglasses and suits and they sayd im in my new home
. . .
“CPS,” Ray said as he read the email from Sarah. “She got taken by CPS.”
“So she’s not with Brendon anymore?” Ryan asked, feeling more hopeless by the
second.
Ray frowned and nodded. “Probably not. When kids are taken from their families,
they tend to be put in foster homes out of state so they can be in a completely
new environment and not run into anyone that could bring back memories or even
tell the original parents where their kids are. It’s safer. Once the kids are
officially taken from their families, like if their parents are now in jail,
they’d be taken out of state, unlike being kept in state if they’re waiting for
a court date or something.”
“Is there a chance she could know?”
Ray shook his head. “I mean, if the kid doesn’t know where they lived before,
accurately, that is, the foster parents won’t tell the kid so the kid can’t try
to run away and go home.”
“And these are the rules for this sort of shit?” Ryan asked incredulously.
“Not at all,” Ray sighed. “In fact, it’s against the rules. But it happens
anyways because foster parents can be horribly controlling and even cruel.
Granted, more than half of all foster parents are actually good, decent folks,
but since she doesn’t seem to know where she is, I can only assume that they
won’t tell her.”
“This is a mess,” Ryan sighed.
“Have you considered talking on the phone with her?” Ray asked.
“So you admit that it’s her?”
Ray shrugged. “I’d like to assume that Brendon’s parents would be at least a
little more literate than this.” He got up and ran his fingers through his
hair. “My dad’s been doing national work, cracking down on neglect cases. He’s
been working and training. Maybe he’ll have heard something.”
Ryan nodded. “Could you talk to him?’
“Of course.”
. . .
“Why do you look so weird?” Brendon asked Ryan softly. Ryan had fought tooth
and nail every night since the first email to try and keep it a secret away
from Brendon, because while he wanted nothing more than to put a smile on the
kid’s face, he knew false hope could be the straw that broke Brendon’s back and
utterly crushed him. Ryan couldn’t risk losing him. Not over something as
unreliable and shaky as this.
But fuck, he couldn’t keep this up.
“I-I’ve been talking to Sarah,” he told Brendon softly. “I think I’m getting
close to finding you.”
Brendon’s expression brightened.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
Ryan nodded stiffly and didn’t let it bother him. Brendon was going to be more
excited for Sarah. By now, he was used to it. “She got taken away by the
government,” Ryan explained. “She’s hopefully safe now.”
“My mom said that a lot of police men and women have been around,” Brendon
said. “They come to church sometimes. I-I don’t know why, or what about, but I
think that a lot of kids are being taken away from their parents.” He bit his
lip, looking nervous. “Are they gonna take me to where Sarah is?”
Ryan shook his head. “If they found you, they’d need proof. Someone has to call
them. Someone else. It’s a huge web of inaccuracies and mess ups. A lot can go
wrong. And even if they did get you, they’d take you to a new home.”
Brendon’s face fell. “Will I ever see her again?”
Ryan shrugged. “Hopefully.”
Brendon nodded. “And you’re looking for me?”
Ryan perked up. “Uh, yeah,” he said with a hopeful grin. “I’m talking with
Sarah and we’re gonna find you. We’re gonna get to you and we’re gonna take you
away from there.”
Brendon nodded again. “And then what?”
Ryan shrugged. “Then you get to live happier ever after, where ever you want to
be.”
Brendon smiled. “And you’ll be there?”
Ryan’s heart fucking soared. He smiled. “Absolutely.”
. . .
“I’m gonna have to just gorge myself on these nachos because I have no self
control when it comes to melted cheese and peppers,” Pete told them all as he
pulled the appetizer plate towards himself. Ryan laughed into his hand as he
held his root beer. He didn’t want to drink anything alcoholic, but everyone
else had helped themselves, so Ryan was designating himself as the sober
driver. He wanted to make sure everyone got home safe.
Tomorrow night was Brendon’s birthday night, and Ryan was very excited, because
he’d given his phone number to Sarah. She’d said she was going to find a phone,
probably a payphone, and was going to call Ryan tomorrow. Ryan was fucking
nervous and he didn’t get why, but he knew he should be. Ryan felt like he was
going on a first date or something. He knew that Sarah was his best chance of
reaching Brendon, and he wasn’t going to let this go to waste or put it off. He
had to get to Brendon. He just had to.
“Oh my god, Ryan!” Mikey gasped. “How could you cheat on Josh?!”
Ryan frowned and made to ask Mikey what he was talking about when there was
suddenly melted cheese splattered against his cheek and his nose and his upper
lip.
“Whose cum is that, Ryan?” Mikey demanded dramatically. “Whose seed is staining
your lips? Your skin, your cheeks? Whose cum is that? Who have you blown with
those cute lips, looked up at with his bright, champagne eyes as you choke on
their dick? Whose the one whose dick you swa—”
“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna cut your fucking fingers off,” Ryan said as he
tried to pull the cheese from his face.
Mikey giggled and flicked more cheese at Ryan. It hit his neck and slid into
his shirt. Ryan shrieked and lurched to his feet, shaking his shirt like a
madman to try and get the cheese out from his clothes.
Josh laughed and reached under Ryan’s shirt to pull the cheese out. Ryan
blushed and squirmed as Josh’s warm hands brushed his skin. His body was now
wired to take Josh’s touch as something comforting and almost sensual, even if
it was a friendly tap on the cheek. Josh’s touch translated as home to him now,
and he kinda fucking loved it.
“Josh and Ryan, sitting in a tree,” Tyler giggled. “F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”
“Babies will be made!” Jenna cheered.
“Nacho babies!” Josh added, grinning like an idiot. He pat his stomach. “It’s
gonna be a girl. A girl food baby, made of nachos and love and shitty 80’s
music.”
“Why the 80’s?” Patrick asked.
Josh pursed his lips, then shrugged. “I guess I just like the way an eight is
shaped.”
“Cause they look like balls,” Pete snickered.
“Oh my god, yes, exactly,” Josh gushed. “Balls are awesome. They’re like the
Jenga blocks of pain. And if you’re not careful, they stick to your inner
thighs. You can juggle them when you’re jacking off.”
“And when you’re sucking dick,” Ryan said absently.
Pete looked to Ryan with a shit eating grin, and Ryan suddenly realized what
he’d said.
“You totally juggle Josh’s balls when you suck him off,” Pete giggled.
“I can’t believe I’m talking about how awesome balls are with Pete fucking
Wentz,” Josh reveled.
Ryan just flipped them off.
. . .
“Mr. Ross?”
Ryan felt a thrill of anxiety shoot through his spine when he heard the girl’s
voice. It was lilting and completely feminine, but also very strong, like she
was confident in what she was saying no matter what she said.
“That’s me,” he said. “Call me Ryan.”
“Call me Sarah,” she replied, sounding a bit stiff. Ryan could understand that.
They were perfect strangers, only acquaintances through association. This was
like meeting a stranger you’d only ever known over the internet in person for
the first time. She was just as nervous as he was, and that was somewhat
comforting.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Ryan asked softly. “Like, where you are?”
“The social workers came to my house and took me away,” she said like she was
reciting a verse. Classic disassociation with an unpleasant memory, a classic
coping mechanism. “I don’t remember where I was, but I know where I am now. I’m
in Colorado.”
Ryan frowned and scribbled it down. “Do you know the name of your main social
worker?”
“I don’t think so,” Sarah mumbled. “But he was nice. He had a happy laugh.”
“Do you think you could find out for me?” Ryan asked. “If I can find him, I-
I can find Brendon.”
“Do you love him?”
Ryan paused, wondering what was appropriate for him to say to this young girl.
“I love him very much,” he told Sarah carefully. “He’s my soulmate. I just want
to be with him and keep him happy and safe.”
“My soulmate is named Jeremy,” Sarah informed him. It sounded like she was
smiling. “He’s cute. He likes making music and he has really nice hair. His
friend, Hayley, he likes talking about her a lot, but he says he likes talking
about me more. He lives in a Washington D-Bee, and he’s saving up to come see
me this winter. He’s really smart, and I think he’s really cute.Do you think
Brendon’s cute?”
Ryan grinned a bit. “I think he’s very cute.”
“I’ll find his name,” Sarah said. “The man would want to help. He talked about
his son a lot and it was nice. He really liked telling me about his family. I
wished he could have stayed longer.”
“He sounds like a good man,” Ryan hummed. He found himself enjoying talking to
Sarah. She was straightforward and no nonsense, obviously not seeing a point in
beating around the bush. He really liked people who didn’t lie or fill the
conversation with boring pleasantries. She didn’t bullshit. That was kinda
fucking awesome.
“I’m gonna get a job,” Sarah continued. “I turned fifteen. Fifteen year olds
are allowed to work out here. I talked to Nancy, and she said she’d get me a
job at this bagel place called Ol’ World Bagel. I’m excited. I’m gonna save up
and then I’m gonna find Brendon and then I’m gonna go to Jeremy and we’re gonna
see the ocean together.”
Ryan felt a little sad when he realized that Sarah didn’t plan on growing old
with Brendon like Brendon planned to do with Sarah.
. . .
“Happy birthday, B” Ryan said softly, almost lovingly. He reached out and
brushed some of Brendon’s hair back behind his ear. “You’re sixteen. I hope
you’re having a good day.”
Brendon shrugged and managed a smile. “I keep looking out my window for Sarah,
but she’s never there.”
“I talked to her,” Ryan sighed. “She sounds like she’s happier where she is. Or
at least, a little more free.”
“You talked to her?”
Ryan nodded. “Over the phone. We’re working on finding you.”
Brendon smiled wider. “I hope you do find me.”
“Are you sure you have no idea where you are?” Ryan prodded gently. He hadn’t
asked this in a while. Maybe Brendon would remember something new.
Brendon hesitated. “Spring,” he said slowly. “I-I saw that word a truck that
was driving through our forest one day. It, it said Spring. Spring something.
Like, like a name.”
Ryan committed that word to memory. “Spring,” he said to himself.
Brendon smiled shakily and nodded. “Spring.” He bit his lip. “C-can I ask you
something? For something?”
Ryan nodded without thinking.
“A birthday present?” Brendon clarified.
“Of course,” Ryan hummed. “Anything.”
Brendon sat up on his knees. “Kiss me?”
Ryan froze.
Brendon whimpered and he looked like his life depended on Ryan’s answer to this
question. It didn’t make sense to Ryan, that he was so obsessed with wanting to
kiss Ryan. Over and over, that’s all he fucking wanted, and Ryan didn’t get it.
He couldn’t understand his obsession to…
Oh.
Ryan wanted to kick himself in the ass when he realized that Brendon felt it—
he fucking connection, the need to be with your soulmate. Brendon felt this
pull and he didn’t know how to put it into words, so he just kept asking Ryan
to kiss him. Ryan had wanted this, he had waited for Brendon to feel that pull,
and it was finally here and Ryan was complaining and trying to explain it so he
could find a way to cop out. Jesus christ, Ryan was a piece of shit.
“One kiss,” he conceded with a gentle smile.
Brendon looked so happy he could cry.
“Just one,” Ryan continued. “And you have to keep it simple. We can’t do
anything beyond a small kiss, because this is kinda really illegal, and I don’t
want to tempt myself.”
“Tempt yourself?” Brendon repeated with a shy grin.
Ryan ignored that. “When I pull away, you pull away,” he negotiated. “Okay?”
Brendon bounced on his knees, looking very excited. He grinned wider and
nodded, pulling at his shirt, wringing it between his fingers. “So can I kiss
you know?”
“Can you just tell me why you want to kiss me?” Ryan asked innocently. He
wanted to see if Brendon would try to explain it.
Brendon shrugged. “I think you’d taste nice,” he said. “And I know you’d feel
better than Sarah. Plus, I-I mean… I just wanna be with you. I kinda wanna sit
in your lap and listen to you tell me stories.” He giggled a bit, sounding
nervous. “I wanna be around you all the time. And I like seeing you smile,
especially if you’re smiling at me. You’re nice to me. And you make me feel
safe. I wanna see if you can make my stomach feel good too.”
Ryan was pretty sure that had something to do with butterflies and adrenaline
from kissing. He wondered if he could actually make Brendon feel as good as
Brendon wanted to feel.
“C’mere,” Ryan murmured. He sat back against the wall and crossed his legs,
patting his lap for Brendon to come sit. Brendon crawled forward eagerly and
sat on Ryan’s thighs, facing Ryan, their chests just an inch apart. Ryan could
feel the heat radiating off of Brendon’s body, and it felt like fucking heaven.
He knew that this was where he belonged. Maybe Brendon didn’t want to be with
Ryan, and that hurt, but at least he could have this moment.
Brendon was smiling wide, his cheeks stained with a faint blush. It was kinda
comforting to know that this was affecting him like it was affecting Brendon.
But he had to remember that Brendon was sixteen, and Ryan was fucking twenty-
four. That was an eight year difference and this was completely illegal.
“I-I don’t think I’m good at kissing,” Brendon said. “My sister said something
about needing to be good at kissing, and I don’t think I’m any good at all.”
Ryan’s heart stuttered. “I’m so in love with you,” he murmured, lips loose from
the feeling of Brendon’s body against his. Brendon blushed deeper and giggled,
squirming a bit in Ryan’s lap. Ryan sucked in a breath and tensed. He suddenly
realized how dangerous this position was.
“Kiss me?” Brendon asked bashfully.
Ryan leaned in and touched their lips together. His breath caught and he
finally felt fucking alive again.
Chapter End Notes
     Ryan blew the cheese monster form Scooby Doo
      
     Someone awesome drew the scene with the cheese monster: http://cat-
     whiskers-art.tumblr.com/post/127174401903/ryan-is-100-done-with-
     their-shenanigans-this
     by http://archiveofourown.org/users/JoshDunismyspiritanimal/pseuds/
     JoshDunismyspiritanimal
***** Sleep Apnea and the Snowball Effect *****
Chapter Summary
     hope tastes like cranberries and useable condoms
Chapter Notes
     my favorite word is ickle
     bop bop bop, bop to the top. slip and slide and ride that cock.
     - Alex de S.E.
Ryan woke up with a fucking raging erection and a huge smile on his face. He
giggled into his hand and squirmed happily in the sheets, stomach fluttering
with butterflies and anxious excitement.
He’d kissed Brendon.
They’d kissed.
And it had been so much better than anything he’d ever dared to imagine.
“Jesus,” Josh groaned from beside him in bed. He reached over and wrapped an
arm around Ryan’s waist. “You’re already revving for a go?” Josh yawned and his
breath smelled like cherries and hotdogs, which was the weirdest combination
Ryan had ever smelt. “I can totally fuck you like you wanna be fucked, baby.”
Ryan snorted and shook his head, still smiling. “I kissed Brendon,” he
whispered.
Josh sat up and grinned wide enough to match Ryan’s smile. “Dude, really?” he
whispered back. They were in Josh’s bed, curled together and enjoying the
solitude after yesterdays’ celebrations. It was almost midnight, and Ryan
wasn’t sure if they were loud enough for Tyler and Jenna to hear them through
the wall. “Oh my god, what was it like? Did you do it or did Brendon do it? Was
he okay with it? Fuck, were you okay with it? He didn’t force you or anything,
right? You wanted it and you’re happy with it? You’re smiling, so I’m assuming
you’re happy.”
“It was amazing,” Ryan breathed, blushing faintly.
“I’ll bet,” Josh giggled. “All you did was kiss and your cock is fucking
leaking.”
Ryan flushed deeper and pulled down Josh’s t-shirt, which he was wearing, to
cover his otherwise bare crotch.
“You’re adorable,” Josh hummed. “You’re just so cute. You don’t gotta hide from
me, Ry-baby. I love you and your huge dick. It’s a sexy dick. I totally love
making your dick messy with cum and shit. Butt stuff. Wanna do butt stuff?”
“You’re ruining this,” Ryan said, but he was giggling as he said it. Josh was
helping him stay relaxed and happy with the dream, and not letting Ryan
overthink.
“Are you gonna jack off?” Josh asked. “I’d like to watch that. I’ve always
wanted to watch.”
Ryan choked on his laughter and shoved a pillow in Josh’s face.
. . .
“How was the kiss?” Gerard asked with a soft smile. Pete was sitting across
from them on the kitchen floor. Ryan and Pete were helping Gerard fold the
dough of dumplings Gerard had found a recipe for online. He was going through
one of his Martha Stewart moments, and this was his third home project over the
past two days. The first had been creating his own coasters with old vinyls and
comic book covers, and the second had been creating aprons from old curtains.
“It was perfect,” Ryan sighed almost dreamily. “Just, his lips, they felt so
amazing. They felt like a fucking god send, I don’t know. I don’t have words
for how good it felt, Gee, I just know that I’ll never feel anything like it
ever again. Not if it isn’t from him.”
Gerard grinned and bounced happily. “This is awesome.”
“It is,” Pete replied, though his voice was a bit stiffer.
“I mean, fuck!” Gerard gasped, grinning. “This is it! This is when all those
years of fucking awful start paying off! This is the light at the end of the
fucking tunnel, Ryan, and you’re going through it, full speed. And there’s no
train at the other end, not even oncoming traffic. It’s an empty road in front
of you, with no one on your tail. You’ve got a full tank of gas and plenty of
snacks and your CD collection and you’re just going.”
“Until he hits a fucking road block,” Pete mumbled.
Gerard and Ryan both looked to Pete.
Pete looked back up at them and shrugged, trying to appear innocent. “What?” he
asked. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“What are you talking about, Pete?” Ryan asked softly. He wanted to hear Pete’s
side of this before he let himself get upset.
“This always happens,” Pete replied. “You act like everything’s gonna get
better, and then it just gets worse. And then you throw your hands in the air
and ask god why this keeps happening to you. It’s a vicious cycle and I’m kinda
fucking tired of it.”
“You, you don’t mean that,” Ryan tried to argue, but it was weak.
“I do,” Pete huffed. “Brendon’s gonna turn on you again and you’re gonna cry a
fucking river and we’re all gonna have to scramble to your aid and pick up the
pieces when you try to overdose again.”
Patrick whacked Pete upside the head. “You’re a cum guzzler and a dick. Just
let Ryan be happy, jesus.” Ryan blinked, startled, because he wasn’t sure when
Patrick had entered the room. “That was a fucked up thing to say,” Patrick
continued harshly. “You’d don’t taunt someone over their fucking suicide
attempt. You know better, you fucking asshole.”
Pete had his head hung, hiding underneath his lashes.
“I’m fucking serious,” Patrick snapped. “You don’t fucking say things like
that.”
“I-it’s okay,” Ryan fumbled to say. Though what Pete had said was horribly
hurtful, he didn’t like to see his best friend be rebuked like this.
“No, it’s not okay,” Patrick denied harshly. “And don’t you dare try to say it
is. This isn’t something you just say to someone and not expect to skin a few
fucking hearts alive. Pete just said one of the most fucked up things in the
world and he has no fucking right to mock this because he fucking did it too,
in a fucking parking lot, and he wasn’t even alone! He left the fucking hotel
room with me in the bed and overdosed at Best Buy and for him to come here and
mock you is the most fucked up thing in the world and I’m five steps from
breaking his fingers!”
Ryan winced and nodded obediently. Patrick was like Frank. When he was pissed,
he was fucking scary.
“If I hear you say something like that again, I’m going back to LA without you
so you can think about the things that come out of your mouth and what they can
do to people.”
“I’m sorry,” Pete mumbled.
Patrick huffed and walked to the fridge. He opened it with a sharp tug and
grabbed the apple juice, pouring himself a glass. Then he angrily left the
kitchen with his cup of apple juice in his fist and a petulant expression.
Gerard giggled. “He’s kinda fucking adorable once you’re done being scared of
him.”
“You should see him when he tops,” Pete sighed.
. . .
That night, Ryan found his old notebook full of angsty lyrics and knew what he
had to do.
. . .
Ryan dropped every single class he had and switched to online school. He signed
up for four classes per half semester and prepared himself to be drowned in the
final courses he was required to take. His thesis would have to be written in a
few months and Ryan would graduate half a semester early.
Saving on tuition helped Ryan plan on saving up slowly for a plane ticket.
He was going to get to Brendon if it fucking killed him.
. . .
“Shit on a stick and suck my dick,” Frank huffed.
Ryan looked up, cuddled against Josh on the couch. He raised a brow when he saw
Frank was pursing his lips and looking over a sketchbook in his lap. Ryan
recognized it as Gerard’s sketchbook and wondered what Frank was doing with
that.
“What’re you doing?” he asked with a frown.
“Gerard’s been drawing me,” he grumbled. “And it looks amazing, but he’s hiding
it from me and I don’t know why he’s hiding it. He’s never hidden these things
from me before. Do you think he’s upset?” Frank was beginning to look really
nervous, or maybe he had been nervous since Ryan had come into the room. “I,
I’m kinda scared that he’s doing something he doesn’t want me to know about,
and I know it can’t be bad because Gerard just doesn’t know how to be bad, but
this is really freaking me out.”
Frank kept turning pages. “Fuck, this is an amalgamate of just me. Over and
over again, my body, my face…” He whimpered. “I-I don’t know when he had the
time to do this. What does this mean?”
Josh shrugged. “Means he thinks you’re hot and he wants to save a piece of you
for later.”
“Why would he need to save me for later?” Frank asked worriedly. “Does he think
I’m going somewhere? Is he going somewhere? Jesus, all he has to do is smile at
me and I have a fucking raging boner for him, what the hell does he have to
save me for later for?”
“I didn’t say that’s it,” Josh snorted. “Dude, have you ever thought that maybe
he just wants to draw you?”
Ryan hummed and nodded his agreement as Josh reached down to play with Ryan’s
hair. “Gee’s an artist,” he reminded Frank. “He’s gotta draw what he sees. It’s
good practice. And I’ll bet you’re his favorite thing to draw.”
“But there are so many drawings,” Frank said uselessly.
“It’s fine, Frankie,” Josh said with a grin. “He’s your husband. It’s fine.”
. . .
“So Frank is really nervous about all these drawings you did of him,” Ryan told
Gerard later that night, when he got back from the studio.
Gerard turned to look at Ryan in horror.
Ryan hesitated. “Uh, what?”
“He saw them?” Gerard asked. “Fuck! He wasn’t supposed to see those!”
Ryan faltered as his brain struggled to keep up. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s gonna be our anniversary present,” Gerard said. “I just, I-I wanted to
do something special. I’m making a book, and some prints and shit. I’m working
with Lindsey and Jamia to rent out a little gallery downtown and I’m gonna fill
it up with just Frank. I-I thought it’d be cute, you know? And I’m making a
small comic series and Lindsey’s gonna kelp me get it printed to look legit.”
Ryan grinned slowly. “That’s the sweetest thing in the fucking world.”
“Right?” Gerard looked distressed. “It’s unique and just completely about him
and I’ve worked so hard on it and now he’s seen the drawings! It’s all ruin!”
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed. “Fuck, it, it’s not ruined, Gee. It’s fine.” He reached
out with an outwards palm, hoping to placate him. “He has no idea about what’s
going on. He’s a little nervous because he’s used to you showing him the things
you draw, but if you just come up with some other excuse, I’m sure that he’ll
grasp onto it without questions. He just doesn’t want to think that you’re
trying to save him for later or something. I don’t quite remember what he was
saying.”
Gerard sighed and nodded, looking down at his hands. “I just don’t want him to
figure it out,” he murmured. “I’ve called in so many favors for this.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan reassured Gerard. “Really. It’ll be okay. Just don’t make it
a big deal and he won’t take it as a big deal.”
Gerard bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. “You think so?” he
asked after a pause.
“Absolutely,” Ryan replied. “Tell him it’s okay, and he’ll think it’s okay.”
. . .
“I wanna go snorkeling,” Brendon told Ryan. “I-I saw a picture in the pages of
my sisters’ textbook. It had people under the water, swimming with turtles.”
Brendon smiled to himself. He was sitting happily in Ryan’s lap, curled against
his chest. Brendon was getting bigger, but Ryan didn’t mind. “I kinda like
turtles,” he said. “Those things with the shells, right? They’ve got weird
faces.”
Ryan hummed his agreement. “They looked pretty dopey.”
“Dopey,” Brendon repeated slowly. “Dopey? What does that mean?”
Ryan shrugged. “They looked doped up. Sluggish and tired and old.”
Brendon giggled. “Dopey. That’s a good word. I wanna use that more often. There
are a lot of words I don’t know.”
“I’ll get you a dictionary calendar,” Ryan said offhandedly. But his words had
caught Brendon’s attention.
“What’s that?” Brendon asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
Ryan fucking loved it when he looked like this. “It’s a special calendar that
has a page for every day of the year,” he said. “It’ll have a new word and its
definition for every one of those days. It’s a good alternative to
strengthening your vocabulary without having to read a page from the dictionary
every day.”
“I wanna learn everything,” Brendon sighed almost dreamily. “And I wanna have a
midnight snack. I’ve only heard about those. Never had one.”
Ryan frowned a bit. “Why not?”
“I’m not allowed to eat after eight,” Brendon replied with a shrug. “It’s
weird. My brothers and sisters can, but I can’t.” His expression began to morph
into something unhappy. “I hate having to fight to eat. It makes me feel like
an animal.”
“Risking your life for a little food is the most human thing you can do,” Ryan
told him gently. “It makes you more human than anyone else I know.”
“It does?” Brendon asked almost shyly.
Ryan nodded. “For thousands of years, the human race has fought over and over
again for its next meal. Every decision humanity has made has hinged on the
need for food. Where we lived, the people we knew, the things we did, the
plants we grew. All of it was food. Water and air are taken for granted with
us. But food is something we don’t even want to consider going without.”
Brendon smiled. “Thank you. I-I feel human again.”
. . .
Ryan went to bed really late the next night, and didn’t fall asleep. He wasn’t
sure if it was because he was on an insomnia binge, or if it was because
Brendon hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but he took it as a grain of salt. He was
writing his thesis, and he could use the extra time awake to get more of it
done.
He stopped writing, though, when he realized he heard the front door open and
close. Ryan paused and even held his breath to make it easier to hear. When he
didn’t hear someone announcing their presence, or even just walking around the
house at a normal pace, Ryan got up and left his room to investigate.
He froze when he saw Mikey, slumped against a wall, trying to stop himself from
crying.
“Mikey?” Ryan called out softly. When Mikey didn’t answer— because he probably
hadn’t heard him— Ryan approached carefully. He made sure his footsteps were
heavy and steady so he wouldn’t startle the other man. Ryan stepped closer and
started tapping his hand on the counter, then the sofa, trying to make as much
subtle noise as he could.
But Mikey still started when he finally noticed Ryan.
“G-go,” Mikey choked out, voice shaking. Ryan felt sick when he saw bruises
around Mikey’s neck and tears in his eyes. “Go away, Ryan,” Mikey ordered
brokenly. “Just, go, go away.”
“What happened?” Ryan asked sadly. He didn’t go away, because fuck that. He
kept approaching Mikey carefully, refusing to back down. “Mikey, you, you’ve
got bruises. You gotta tell me what happened.”
“I said go away!” Mikey snapped, tears falling.
“No,” Ryan denied, shaking his head. “C’mon, Mikey. You know I’m not gonna let
this go.”
Mikey sobbed and dropped to the floor completely. Ryan sat down with him and
reached out to put an arm around Mikey. He was relieved when Mikey didn’t try
to push him away, which meant that Mikey hadn’t been horribly hurt, or even
fucking raped, god forbid. Ryan kept his side pressed against Mikey’s so he
would feel a presence, physically and mentally.
“I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
Mikey nodded.
It was almost an hour before the other man took in a long, shaky breath, like
he was finally calming down.
“I-I was at a party,” Mikey whimpered. “There, it was my going away party. I-
I’m quitting the salon, yeah? I’m d-done there, I wasn’t happy a-a-and I’m
done. B-but I was at this party, and there was one of m-my coworkers, and he’s
always l-l-looking at me and trying to talk to me, and I thought he was j-just
a nice guy and he wanted to be friends, you know?”
Ryan paled. “What happened, Mikey?”
Mikey shook his head. “There… There was something in my, my drink. I know that
now.” He laughed brokenly. “I-I can still taste it. Fuck, Ryan, I-I can taste
whatever was in my drink, I can fucking taste it and I think I’m gonna be
sick.”
“What did he do?” Ryan asked almost harshly. He was beginning to get angry as
his mind went wild with what could have happened.
Mikey shook his head again. “I don’t remember,” he whispered. “I don’t, I can’t
remember, Ryan. Just, I-I have bruises on my neck and I don’t know where else.
My shirt’s torn, Ryan, and I c-can’t find my wallet? And my cellphone. And I
don’t know what to do.”
Ryan hesitated. “Do you want me to look for any more bruises?”
Mikey bit his lip. “… Please.”
Ryan stood and offered a hand to help Mikey stand with him. Mikey took it and
wobbled to his feet.
“Bathroom,” Mikey mumbled. Ryan nodded and led Mikey carefully, an arm around
the other man’s waist to keep him steady as they shuffle down the hall. He
couldn’t imagine how violated Mikey must feel. He prayed to god that the
bruises around his neck were the worst of it.
Ryan pulled Mikey into the bathroom with a gentle grip to his lower arm. Mikey
dropped to sit on the shut toilet, hanging his head in his hands. He took in
shallow breathes, like he was actually trying to hyperventilate. Ryan reached
out and ran his hands through Mikey’s hair. “Hey,” he murmured gently. “It’s
okay, Mikey. Whatever’s happened, we’ll get through it.”
“What do I tell Ray?” Mikey choked out, beginning to cry again.
“Nothing until you’re ready,” Ryan promised. “C’mon, help me get your shirt off
so we can see if we need to do any first aid, okay? Everything’s going to be
fine.” Ryan was slowly becoming aware of how well he was handling this and it
astounded him. He was becoming really good at handling trauma, jesus.
Mikey whimpered and tugged his shirt off from over his head.
Ryan looked over his torso and felt a sense of relief. “There’s only one more
bruise,” he said. “It’s, it’s just under your collar bone, but it’s not bad.
There are no other cuts or anything. You, you look like you’re gonna be okay.”
Mikey let out a huge, shaky sigh of relief. “So, h-he didn’t do anything? You
think?”
Ryan shook his head. “You’re okay. He just…” Ryan shrugged. “I mean, I don’t
see any marks that look like hands or, or bites. I think you’re okay, Mikey.
Fuck, I just, not, not okay.” He shook his head. “What he did to you was wrong
and just fucked up and I’m so sorry it happened, but I think all he did w-was
drug you and take stuff. Not that being drugged is a “just.” But I’m just
really fucking happy that you’re okay. Physically.”
Mikey nodded. Ryan could see his shoulders shaking, and he reached out to put
his arms around Mikey’s neck, pulling Mikey’s head into his chest. Mikey held
onto Ryan’s shirt and cried softly, but it was so much better than it could
have turned out.
“I-I need a new phone,” Mikey murmured. His voice was still trembling, but Ryan
thought he sounded remarkably better now that he knew it had only gone so far.
“I need a new phone, and I need to cancel my credit card and shit. I need a new
ID, fuck, I-I’m kinda really fucking relieved that Gee has my social security
card, and not me.” He chuckled darkly. “I’m such a fucking mess, Ry.”
“You’re fine,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll grab you some
clothes.”
“Could you wake Ray up?” Mikey asked almost fearfully.
Ryan hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Mikey nodded.
“Okay,” Ryan agreed.
Mikey started to tug down his pants and Ryan remembered that Mikey had recently
made a habit of not wearing underwear and Ryan choked on his own spit before
leaving the bathroom in a rush.
He went to Mikey and Ray’s bedroom and carefully nudged the other man awake,
planning the words he would say to explain what was happening.
“Ry?” Ray slurred, obviously still half asleep. “What’s happenin’?”
“I need you to come to the bathroom with me,” he murmured. “Something happened
to Mikey.”
Ray snapped awake, sitting up sharply, alert. He moved so fast that he
accidentally knocked his shoulder into Ryan’s head. Ryan let out a surprised
sound of confusion, pulling back. “Fuck, sorry,” Ray said. “What happened to
Mikey? Is he okay?” Ray looked to Mikey’s side of the bed, like he was just
registering that his fiancé wasn’t beside him. “What happened, Ryan?” he
whimpered.
“He was at the party and one of his coworkers drugged him, put some bruises on
him, and took his wallet and his phone.” Ryan had meant to be considerate about
this, but he also realized that Ray wouldn’t want him to bullshit around this.
It was fucking serious, so Ryan was going to take it seriously.
Ray looked nauseous. “Oh Mikey,” he choked. Ray got to his feet and ran to the
bathroom. Ryan followed him. He watched Ray climb into the shower with Mikey,
completely clothed. The water drenched Ray immediately, but he didn’t seem to
care. He just wrapped his arms around Mikey and held him so tight that Ryan
could see Mikey’s already pallor skin become whiter from the pressure.
Ryan waited around, wanting to make sure everything was okay.
“I’m so f-fucking happy you’re okay,” Ray told Mikey. He was quiet, but loud
enough for Ryan to overhear. Ray didn’t curse a lot either, so that was just a
testament to how shaken up he was. At least he wasn’t angry with Mikey.
“I don’t wanna see him again,” Mikey replied.
“Never again,” Ray swore. “I’ll fucking kill him if he comes anywhere near
you.”
Ryan took that moment to slip away. Ray was going to take care of him, and Ryan
didn’t want to risk seeing Mikey’s junk again.
. . .
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Frank sneered the next morning. Ryan had yawned
halfway through his explanation of what had happened to Mikey. Brendon had
pulled him under around four A.M. and they had talked about absolutely nothing.
It had been a pleasant sort of relief from the heaviness of the night Ryan had
had.
“That fucking creep did what?”
Gerard had gotten up the second Ryan had stated only half of what had happened.
Ryan assumed he was back in Mikey’s room, just holding his brother and probably
crying more than Mikey was.
“I’m gonna skin him alive,” Frank grumbled. Ryan just shrugged.
“I mean it,” Frank insisted. “We should get this fucker arrested!”
“That’s too good for this,” Pete snapped. He looked just as murderous as Frank.
“He deserves to be drugged and thrown into the fucking ocean. Drowned or worse.
Eaten alive by his own family.”
“Woah now,” Patrick said. “Careful. Ryan might be legally obligated to report
you.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ryan said. “I’d help.”
Pete nodded. He was tearing up strips of paper in his hands. Ryan wasn’t sure
when he’d started doing that to help himself deal with whatever anger he was
feeling, but it was a much better alternative to the almost masochistic routes
Pete used to take. “People are fucked up,” Pete grumbled.
Ryan nodded his agreement.
. . .
Ryan knew everything was going to be okay when he walked in on Mikey riding Ray
like a fucking porn star in the middle of the fucking living room with Looney
Toons playing on the TV, cheeto dust covering Mikey’s fingers and Ray’s face.
. . .
Sarah told Ryan about getting her job and having a meeting with her social
worker. Ryan was halfway through his final semester and he was flying high, so
fucking excited because everything was working.
. . .
“Is everything okay?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice. “Is Sarah okay? You
haven’t spoken very much about her.”
“Everything’s okay,” Ryan said, and he meant it. Mikey hadn’t left the house in
three days, but he felt loved and protected and Ray had only cried one more
time since that fateful night. Frank was less murderous and Pete and Patrick
had gone home when they finally felt like everything would be okay without
them. Ryan appreciated his friends more and more with every day, and he was
beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel like Frank said.
“Everything’s okay,” he said again, “It’ll be okay, okay? And I’m always gonna
be here and you’re always gonna be here, and I’m gonna get you home, and
everything will be okay, and you and I will be happy and you’ll be with Sarah
and it’ll be great.”
Brendon shrugged. “I’d like to just be with you.”
Ryan paused. “… Really?”
Brendon nodded. “I-I just, I’ve been thinking, and you’re… You’re Ryan.”
Ryan smiled a bit, not letting himself get too hopeful. “That I am.”
“And you’ve always been here and the less I’ve seen of Sarah, the more I’ve
realized that you’re actually here and you’re real and no matter what I’ve put
you through, you’ve been here.” Brendon tool in a shaky breath. “I-I burned
your wings off, Ryan. You were crying and begging for me to stop and I didn’t
and you were still there every night and you still loved me. You were afraid of
me, I could see it, but you still loved me.”
Ryan’s smile became a little sad, because Brendon was right. He’d been scared
of what Brendon could do to him for the longest time. He had been fearful of
falling asleep and he had been scared of the pain.
“I knew that if you had known who I was, you wouldn’t have done that to me.”
Brendon nodded again. “I-I wouldn’t have hurt you if I’d known what you’d mean
to me.”
Ryan smiled and shrugged. “We’re past that. I have you with me now. It’s all
gonna be okay.”
. . .
Josh kissed Ryan slowly, pulling down Ryan’s pants like he had to be careful.
Ryan wasn’t sure why Josh was taking this so slowly and shakily, like he was
scared he could hurt Ryan, which he totally couldn’t. Ryan was beginning to
enjoy some sort of roughness between them. He fucking loved being manhandled
and pinned and fucked raw by Josh, fuck.
“C’mon, Josh,” he moaned, squirming. He tried to help kick his pants off,
wanting to get this into gear. “Joshy,” he whined. “You gotta make me wake up
with bruises.”
Josh didn’t reply and Ryan got nervous. He pulled back and away, shuffling up
the bed to the headboard. Ryan reached out to hold Josh’s face in his hand. He
leaned in and kissed Josh’s cheek softly. “Talk to me,” he murmured. “What’s
wrong, Joshy?”
“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Josh asked in a tiny, vulnerable voice.
“When you find Brendon? We, we’re so lose to getting him and what am I gonna do
without you?”
Ryan snorted, kinda incredulous that Josh actually that he was going to leave
him. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Jesus, Josh, for real?”
Josh whimpered and looked almost scared.
“You really think that I can somehow manage to live without you?” Ryan
continued to ask. “Once I get Brendon, I’m with you and him to the end. Fuck,
you’re gonna live with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to make Brendon stay with
Gee and company, and I was gonna get my own place, but you’re coming with me,
okay? It’s you and me and B, and I don’t know why it makes sense to me, but
it’s all I know.”
Josh smiled shakily. “A-are you sure? You and Brendon… You, you’re soulmates.”
“And you’re my best friend,” Ryan giggled. “And you’re awesome. And I don’t
want to lose you to anyone or anything, okay? Just like I’m with Brendon to the
end, I’m with you, and it’s gonna be awesome. We won’t have sex like this, but
it’ll still be nice. I’ll cuddle the fuck out of you and we’ll be happy.”
Josh bit his lip, eyes lighting up as he began to hope. “Can I still fuck you?”
“You fucking better,” he moaned. “I can get hard again soon. Like, in seconds.
And you should tie me down or something, cause I think I’m into that shit and I
really want bruises tomorrow and I wanna fucking scream, Joshy.” He giggled.
“Make me scream.”
Josh moaned and tugged off Ryan’s boxers. “Let’s make fucking babies.”
. . .
It seemed to be a pattern— Ryan’s friends thinking things would be over between
them once Ryan finally reached Brendon. Ryan couldn’t blame them, of course.
These past six years had been spent waiting and waiting for the end game, and
now that the end was in sight, Ryan didn’t know what his future held. Most
people got a degree to have a future. Ryan got his degree to erase the past.
His future was a blank space, blurry and unclear in its restrictive clarity.
Mikey sometimes had nightmares. He never remembered them, or at least, he said
he didn’t. Ryan didn’t know if he wanted to believe that, but he was also
horribly biased towards pretending that Mikey didn’t remember so he could
pretend that Mikey didn’t relive that hell over and over in his head.
But these nightmares still happened whether they were remembered or not, and
Mikey came to a halt, economically and mentally and physically. He didn’t talk
about getting another job, or talk about other dreams he could have. Ryan was
the only one really worried about this. Gerard insisted Mikey just needed some
time to think about nothing at all and Ray just couldn’t push Mikey in any
direction in fear of breaking him. Things had gone well after the drugging, but
everyone was a little scared to break the bridge before the kerosene could burn
it.
Eventually, Ryan couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.
And apparently, neither could Mikey.
“How am I supposed to trust again?” Mikey asked Ryan out of the blue. Ryan had
been pouring himself some milk and Mikey had wandered into the kitchen in only
a towel hair still dripping from his shower. Mikey looked paler than he should
and Ryan worried that the other man had taken a cold shower for reasons other
than hormones. “I thought he was a nice guy and then he drugged me and stole my
shit.” Mikey was staring at the floor that was beginning to collect pools of
water at Mikey’s feet.
“Always wondered what the guy is doing with that shit right now,” Ryan said
thoughtlessly.
Mikey snorted. “Probably built a shrine to me or something. I’ll bet he licks
my credit cards and sniffs that three dollars and forty-one cents I had in my
wallet.”
“You remember that?” Ryan snorted. “Jesus, I don’t even know the change I have
in my wallet. I’m not even sure where my wallet is.” He slowly frowned to
himself.
Mikey managed a smile. “Where’s your wallet, Ry?”
“I have no idea,” he relented with a sheepish grin. “Jesus, I have no idea
where it could be. Maybe it’s in Gee’s car? Or maybe it’s in my room, under the
bed and between the wall and desk and shit. I’m not sure where it is.”
Mikey nodded. “What happens when you find Brendon?”
Ryan sighed. He’d just been over this with Josh yesterday, and he had been
waiting for this to happen with the rest of his motley crew. He knew that they
had to be worried. Hopefully, if Ryan played his cards right, he wouldn’t have
to live more than two walls away from these people. Two walls and maybe a cute
yard, but that would be it.
“When I find Brendon, I’m getting a place across the street,” Ryan said. “We’ll
dig a tunnel underground to connect our two homes, so you guys don’t have to
hear his nightmares, and so we can just walk down a hall as usual to see each
other.”
“Gee sometimes talks about moving to New York,” Mikey mumbled.
Ryan blinked. This was news to him. “Does he?”
Mikey nodded.
“Wow,” Ryan breathed. “That’s, uh… That’s pretty far away.”
Mikey nodded again.
“Any reason why?”
Mikey shrugged. “They’ve got all the comic publishing companies,” he said.
“They’ve got the buildings and the people and the name and the label. They’ve
got the money that Gee wants, and they’ve got the resources he wants even
more.” He smiled brokenly. “I never thought I’d lose my brother to his dreams.”
“No matter what happens, you’re not losing Gee,” Ryan told him as firmly as he
could without being harsh. “Nor me, for that matter. You’re not losing Frank,
or Ray, or anyone, okay? It’s temporary shit and it might not even happen.”
“Do you wanna start a band, Ry?” Mikey asked.
“Yes,” Ryan replied without a thought. Then he paused to actually do that, to
actually think like he should, and he wasn’t surprised when he realized that
his answer hadn’t changed. “Yes,” he said again.
Mikey began to smile wider. “Really?’
Ryan smirked. “Of course,” he said. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, aside from
Brendon.”
“For real?” Mikey pressed.
“Yep,” Ryan hummed. “I mean, there will be logistics and problems. I have to
fix Brendon and get him to a place that’s stable, but Mikey, I-I can’t be a
therapist and I can’t be a doctor. But I can be a fucking musician, you know?
Unstable and moody. I can write and I can play and that’s it.”
“And you can attain a doctorate,” Mikey added.
“But not because I wanted to,” Ryan argued softly. “Because I needed to. The
difference between wanting and needing is separated by a delicate line and an
OK, Go song. I want to be a musician, and that’s it.”
Mikey grinned. “I wanna play bass,” he giggled, looking hopeful after so many
days of calculated apathy.
“I’ll play guitar,” Ryan hummed. “We’ll find a drummer. And a singer.”
“Why can’t you be the singer?” Mikey asked, looking very excited with all this
talking of actually doing something that Mikey had also wanted to do since he
was young.
“I don’t like my nasally voice,” he said. “I’m not in the Beatles.”
“You should be,” Mikey huffed. “You’re, like, Paul Mcartney’s baby, or the
person that Paul McCartney wants to fuck. Cause if I wanna fuck you, then Paul
McCartney totally does too. No one can resist Ryan.”
“You wanna fuck me?” Ryan asked incredulously.
“If the moment arose and Ray said yes, hell yeah,” Mikey giggled. “You’re my
lead guitarist.”
“And your my bassist,” Ryan gigged. “So, fucking useless.”
Mikey made a wounded noise and slapped Ryan’s shoulder weakly. Ryan broke out
into laughter and had to hide his face.
. . .
“Skype is draining my battery like the energy of a prostitute on free handjob
Friday,” Josh told Ryan. He was staring at the screen of his laptop while
sitting on his bed next to Ryan, trying to connect with and talk to Tyler, who
was on a trip to Detroit for some food truck convention. Josh so obviously
missed Tyler that it was visible on his face.
“I don’t know how to make this work,” he lamented. “I feel so sad.” Josh turned
to Ryan with big, sad eyes. “Suck my dick, it’ll make me feel a lot better.”
“I’m tempted to punch you in the dick instead,” Ryan snorted.
“Don’t punch me in the dick,” Josh pouted. “Suck my dick. It has to feel good,
or else I’ll be sad. You know you won’t like me when I’m sad. I’m a party
pooper when I’m sad. And I’ll poop on your face.”
Ryan gagged.
Josh snickered and shoved Ryan playfully. “You mean you don’t want me to take a
dump on your chest?”
“I’m not into coprophilia,” Ryan deadpanned.
“Big word,” Josh said. “What does it mean? Is it sexy?”
“Was Two Girls, One Cup sexy?” Ryan asked sarcastically.
Josh gagged this time.
Ryan giggled and leaned over to kiss Josh’s cheek. “So, I have a proposal,” he
hummed. “I don’t know if you can sing or anything, maybe work audio, but Mikey
and I have this band and we were wondering if you’d like to learn an instrument
or something and join us.”
Josh frowned at Ryan. “There’s a drum set at the foot of my bed for a reason,
Ry.”
Ryan also frowned, then turned to look at the foot of said bed. He stared at
the drum set and tried to remember if he’d ever noticed it before, and also
wondered why he had never actually registered it was there before.
“You’re adorable,” Josh snickered. “I love you. And I’d love to be your
drummer.”
“Sweet,” Ryan mumbled, still staring at the set. “Hard part’s… over.”
“What’s the hard part?”
Ryan shook his head a little to clear his thoughts. “Uh, a-a drummer,” he
replied. “Finding a drummer is the hard part. We’ve got a bassist, guitarist,
and now a drummer, and all we need is a singer or maybe another guitarist?”
Ryan shrugged. “Honestly, we thought of this yesterday. It’d be cool if we can
do something with this.”
“Good, because you’d be an awful therapist,” Josh chuckled.
Ryan smiled softly to himself, over the moon with how well Josh knew him.
. . .
“A band,” Brendon repeated wistfully. “You, you said we would a long time ago.
And you still want to?”
Ryan nodded. “We’ve got everyone except the lungs.”
Brendon looked a bit confused at that.
“Singer,” Ryan clarified.
“But you can sing,” Brendon said. “Why don’t you do it?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m not a lead singer,” he said. “Just a singer.” He smiled to
himself, a bit melancholy. “I just, I never really saw myself as someone with a
worthwhile voice. I could do back up, but never anything astounding. That’s
just not what I sound like. I’m not Patrick or David Bowie or Paul McCartney.
I’m nothing special.”
Brendon frowned, visibly upset. “You’re special,” he said, lip jutting out in a
petulant pout. “You’re really special, okay? You, you make me feel safe even
though it’s all in my head. You make me smile. You make me feel loved and
hopeful and no one else can do that.”
Ryan sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to belittle myself, or
look down on how you see me. I just, I-I have problems too, sometimes.” He
smiled in a self deprecating manner. “I’m the physical embodiment of being my
own worst enemy. I can tear myself down in a heartbeat without even thinking
twice, you know? I know myself better than anyone else, so I know how to hurt
myself in the most effective, efficient ways.”
“And that’s with your own faults,” Brendon mumbled, like he knew what Ryan was
talking about. Ryan didn’t doubt that Brendon did, though he wished that wasn’t
so.
“Your life is already hard enough without putting yourself down,” he told the
boy sadly. “Just because some people say you’re not worth it doesn’t mean it’s
true. They want to hurt you, and that’s it.”
Brendon nodded. “You don’t want to sing?”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to sing,” he affirmed.
. . .
Ryan was one month and halfway into his thesis when he realized it was shit.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, staring at the twenty or so pages of absolute horse shit.
He’d never been so disappointed in a paper of his own making, and here it was,
staring him in the face, as his fucking thesis. He would never get his degree
with something this horrific.
“Fuck,” he said again, scrolling up and down like the movement would magically
fix the paper. He knew he shouldn’t have gone with child development in
separated environments. Everyone did that paper and it required little to no
new research and Ryan had gone with it because he was a lazy sack of shit, but
jesus, this was a new low. He was going to lose his degree if he stuck with
this.
Ryan took in a deep breath and called the only person he knew who would be able
to help him with something like this.
“Ryan?” Travis asked more than greeted once he’d picked up. “Dude, hey, it’s
been a while. What the fuck happened to you?”
“Life,” he sighed. “Just, yeah. It was a fucking mess, Travis. I don’t even
know what half of it was.” He paused. “But… I kissed Brendon.” Ryan smiled to
himself, blushing. “And it was amazing, you know? He’s, he’s sixteen now. Still
not legal, but for his birthday he wanted a kiss so I just… I gave it to him.
And I don’t regret it.”
“Good,” Travis huffed. “About damn time you stopped hating yourself for this.”
Ryan snorted and couldn’t agree more.
“So, uh, I-I need your help,” he said. “Not with Brendon. But my thesis.”
“Thesis already?”
“I’m graduating a semester early,” Ryan said. “I’ve been drowning in workload,
but I’m so close to finding him and I want to make sure that everything will be
ready for him once I find him. I, I gotta get a job and shit and make money and
start paying back loans, but I’m gonna do it, you know? I can do it because I
have to do it. And I need to finish now and I need your help.”
“How bad is your thesis?” Travis asked knowingly.
“It’s shit,” Ryan almost wailed. He kept scrolling up and down on the paper,
but Ryan was an adult and magic wasn’t real. “God, I don’t know how I even let
myself write half of it, you know? I almost want to slap myself across the
face. I thought I was better than that.”
“Obviously not,” Travis snickered.
“And I wanted to call you because I realized, like, just now, that all of this
is like something that happened to me a few years ago,” Ryan explained
haltingly. “I kept saying I’d call someone and I kept saying it and saying it
and saying it until… One day, i-it was too late.”
Ryan took in a shaky breath, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I don’t
want to attend another funeral of a friend,” he murmured.
“Gotcha,” Travis sighed. “Let’s get this thesis done.”
***** Metaplasia, Horripilation, and Cell Death *****
Chapter Summary
     sometimes i talk so fast that i start rolling my tongue between words
     so they just slip together.
     it’s super effective.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Jesus,” Travis groaned. “No, Ryan, professors don’t really give a shit about
children playing with toys as the grow up and they don’t care if that helped
development or not because children aren’t your area of expertise, nor
interest. You’ve got the fucking lamest ideas ever, and I’m honestly
disappointed in you, okay? I’m very disappointed in you.”
“What do you expect?” Ryan huffed. “I’m not some fucking genius and I’m not
getting this degree to conduct research. This is your field, not mine. I know
the information. I just don’t know how to teach something new to people who
probably know fucking everything. It’s pointless and fucking important and it
pisses me off.”
“To superstition and stupidity,” Travis sighed. “They don’t want you to teach
them something new, they want to be convinced that you believe in the science
of psychology and aren’t just dry heaving information they fed you. You gotta
apply it and translate it into Ryan-ese.”
“But that’s fucking ridiculous,” Ryan whined.
“You’re ridiculous,” Travis scoffed. Ryan heard the sounds of a shuffle of
cloth or paper on the other side of the receiver. He listened carefully for any
sort of hint as to what Travis was doing. He’d been on the phone with Travis
for nearly an hour and he was starting to realize that he may have interrupted
Travis’ daily life for something as dumb as this. Ryan was sure he heard
something like the clatter of a plastic cup hitting the floor.
“What’re you doing?” Ryan had to ask. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the lab, like I am every fucking second of my entire fucking life ever
since I came to this fucking school and sold my soul to this education system
that just digs me a grave of never-ending debt.” Travis replied. “And… I’m
honing up on my beer pong skills.”
Ryan snorted.
“Hey, don’t laugh!” Travis laughed, negating his own statement.“I gotta get
good at this! There’s gonna be a huge party at Mark’s place and I’l be damned
if I lose to that fucker again. I’m a better shot. I was just on tequila and
hot wings, okay? I have to regain my title.” Travis paused, and Ryan heard more
clattering.“Fuck!” Travis cried out. “I fucking suck, fuck! Ryan, you gotta
come with me. You gotta be my moral support.”
Ryan hesitated, not sure if Travis was being legitimate.
“I mean it,” Travis continued, obviously sensing Ryan’s trepidation. “C’mon,
Ry. Have you even been to a college party? A big one, consisting of mostly
strangers and maybe one or two classmates? You gotta go to at least one. You’re
almost done.”
Ryan pursed his lips, eyes darting around his room as he tried to think of what
his answer should be.
“Say yes, and I’ll help you write your entire thesis, paragraph by paragraph.”
“Yes,” Ryan responded now that he had a sort of incentive. It was actually more
like bribery, if he thought about it. “Fuck, if you’ll help me with my thesis,
I’ll suck your dick, sire your child, and I’ll be your slave for, like, three
months.”
“You’ll do anything for my help,”Travis snickered. Then, “party’s tomorrow at
seven, so we’ll show up at eight. I’ll pick you up.”
. . .
“A party,” Brendon repeated. “Are you gonna make friends?”
Ryan shook his head. “Just owe someone a favor.”
Brendon giggled. “That’s cool.”
“What is?”
Brendon shrugged. “Going out and doing amazing things without even wanting to.
Like, you, you gotta be made to do it. Just, that’s how good it is for you.
Someone has to make you do fun things.” Brendon smiled almost shyly to himself.
“I want that one day.”
“I swear you will,” Ryan promised vehemently. “On my life. I will give you
that.”
. . .
Ryan was wearing this leather jacket Josh had suddenly sprung on Ryan that same
morning with no explanation, other than it being, “a cool thing [he] saw in a
movie that he wanted to fuck Ryan in.”
It was black leather with the word Lucifer across the back, coming from a
rainbow of perspective lines. Ryan was befuddled until Josh told him the movie
was called “Lucifer Rising.” Ryan liked the jacket the second he’d tugged it
onto his shoulders. Gerard loaned Ryan one of his pairs of faux-leather skinny
jeans— because, of fucking course, Gerard would have faux-leather skinny jeans—
and Ryan felt pretty fucking sexy, honestly.
“Damn,” Frank giggled. “Who are you dressing up for?”
“No one,” Ryan scoffed. “I’m not dressing up for anyone, or anything. I’m doing
this because I’m going to my first college party.”
“And last,” Mikey chimed in. “Because you’re not a party person, Ry.”
“I’m not a party person,” Ryan repeated, knowing Mikey was right. “Rooms with
more than ten people that won’t shut up is fucking hell to me. Maybe if I knew
everyone, I would be more comfortable. But this is just bullshit.”
“Oh, the lengths you’ll go to cheat on your thesis,” Mikey giggled.
Ryan flipped him off, then went back to adjusting his hair. He hadn’t shaved
this morning, either, so he had a fair amount of stubble on his face, and it
looked kinda nice, arguably. Ryan also really liked how long his legs looked in
these jeans, though the crotch definitely wasn’t anywhere near roomy enough.
“Would Gee be mad if I undid the front seam to maybe give myself a bit more
room?”
“Oh my god,” Frank choked. “Ry, Gee is not that lacking. You’re like
Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Are dick reductions a real thing?” Mikey asked contemplatively. “I mean,
breast reductions are a thing, so why not dick reductions? Some guys have dicks
too big to even be pleasurable. Like, they actually hurt people no matter how
much prep. Some guys have dicks too physically big to go inside a boy or girl.
Maybe you should get dick reduction surgery, Ry.”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear a word of what you just said,” Ryan sighed.
Frank’s phone went off with the fabricated shutter sound.
“What the fuck was that?” Ryan demanded.
“Shot a picture of your crotch in the reflection with your ass and back in
focus, and I’m gonna send it to Josh.”
Ryan couldn’t flip Frank off hard enough.
. . .
“Why do we make a sport out of staying alive?” Travis asked Ryan as they stared
at the TV screen over Mark’s bar down in the basement, showing a swimming
competition from the last Olympics. They were both drinking something weird and
way too strong from the party-stereotype Red Solo cups.
“Memento mori?” Ryan suggested with an almost bored shrug.
“Mentos and Moriarty?” Travis asked with a stupid grin
“Memento Mori,” Ryan repeated, rolling his eyes. “It’s the latin phrase
emphasizing mortality. It translates to, “remember that you will die.” Maybe we
make sport of cheating death to remind ourselves that when it really counts, we
won’t have control of death itself. If we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, no
matter how long we try to keep our heads above water.”
“That’s fucked up,” Travis snickered. “I wanna go swimming. Mark!”
Mark was a kinda short guy with dark hair and this nice smile that made Ryan
think Mark was probably a lot smarter than his grades would reflect. Mark
looked up from where he was holding some poor girl over a keg, though the girl
was obviously enjoying herself, and all the boys and girls around her were
encouraging her.
“What?!” Mark yelled over the cheering of all the other drunk-as-fuck college
kids that Ryan couldn’t even hope to recognize.
“Where’s a fucking pool?!” Travis yelled back, his alcoholic beverage splashing
over the rim of his cup in his excitement. “I need to fucking swim! I have to
remember that I’m going to die with Ryan! You gotta give me this solid!”
“I’m gonna fucking rip your tongue out, Travis!” Mark shouted.
Travis giggled and moved his hands in some gesture that caused more alcohol to
fall and hit Ryan’s shoes. Ryan snorted and tried to kick Travis in the shins,
but Travis was suddenly stumbling across the room, navigating the crowd. Ryan
seriously wanted to follow him because he didn’t know anyone else at this
fucking party, but he was quite happy with his little corner next to the
unmanned bar where no one else was mingling.
Ryan kept staring at the TV screen, obviously very done with everything. He
really wasn’t the type of guy to go to parties. He didn’t enjoy masses of
strangers and bright lights and the smell of sweat and bad decisions. He’d
dealt with the aftermath of wild nights and knew too much about regret to do
anything remotely daring when he was even slightly inebriated. He just didn’t
want to press his luck.
Ryan tumbled when a body hit his own, some smaller figure elbowing and pushing
Ryan into the bar edge. Ryan let out a grunt of pain and hoped he wouldn’t have
too big of a bruise tomorrow morning.
“I’m so sorry!” a light, feminine voice said.
Ryan turned around and just stared at the girl. She was kinda short, but only
by his own standards. She had bright blue hair, cut in a sloppy, choppy sort of
bob or whatever, and she was dressed in neons and leather and plastic. Ryan was
a bit blindsided to find a girl as spunky as her at a party like this. She
wasn’t punk or goth or anything, nor was she college-girl pretty. She just
kinda had her own thing going for her.
“I’m Hayley.” The girl introduced herself in a chipper tone, holding out “I,
uh, I’m friends with Mark. I’ve never seen you at one of these before! And
you’re just standing here, all alone, so I figured I’d pretend to bump into you
to break the ice, you know?” She giggled. “Use a little stress fracturing to
get the job done.”
Ryan just arched a brow at her.
“Sorry,” she apologized, though she didn’t look very sorry, in any way. “I’m a
Physics grad student at University of Chicago. I just started grad school this
year, and I’m so excited!” She bounced on her toes and Ryan saw she was wearing
some scary combat boots. He felt surprisingly mundane compared to her. “So, who
do you know here?”
“Travis,” Ryan said. “He’s a friend of mine. He’s helping me out with my
thesis.”
“Thesis?” Hayley repeated. “Wait, are you graduating?”
Ryan nodded and took a sip of his beverage.
“That’s crazy!” she giggled. “Dude, that’s so awesome! I’ll bet you’re really
excited, right? I’ll bet you’re so fucking pumped to be out there! What’s your
speciality? What kind of degree are you getting?”
Ryan realized that he didn’t want to be unfriendly, so he’d have to dish out
some information on himself. “I, uh, I’m getting my doctorate in Abnormal
Psychology,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t too stiff. “I’m graduating a year
and a half early cause, I just… I needed to crack down on it. For reasons.”
Instead of unfriendly, Ryan was just fucking awkward.
She hummed and nodded. “Soulmate, huh?”
Ryan would’ve beens surprised if their world didn’t revolve around soulmates
and all of that destiny shit.
“I’m getting this degree so I can follow my soulmate around the country,”
Hayley told him with an almost wistful smile. “He’s the founder and lead
guitarist of New Found Glory. Maybe you’ve heard of them? They’re about to go
on tour with Fall Out Boy!”
The irony wasn’t lost to Ryan. He snorted. “Trust me, I know Fall Out Boy.”
Hayley frowned. “Woah, wait, do you not like them? Because we might not get
along if I find out that you have super shitty music taste.”
Ryan fought himself to not bristle with anger. Music taste was a pretty fucked
up thing to dislike about someone. It wasn’t like you could control the music
you liked. If country made your ears bleed, you couldn’t change it, just like
how you couldn't stop someone from singing along to Kanye West no matter how
much it made your stomach churn. “I don’t hate them,” was all he felt like
saying.
“Then what’s the attitude?” she asked, beginning to grin again.
“Pete and I are good friends,” Ryan sighed. “He’s actually at my place right
now.”
Hayley gaped at him. “You know Pete Wentz?!” she shrieked, really bouncing now.
“Oh my god, that’s so cool! I’ve never met him, but I fucking love him! You
should give me his number or something! Invite me over, I gotta meet him, oh my
god!”
Ryan grimaced. “I don’t think he has time for that right now,” he said, wanting
to get Pete off the hook. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that he knew
Pete. People always expected Ryan to suddenly do whatever they wanted so they
could meet Pete. They just assumed that all Pete lived for was meeting new
fans, which wasn’t the case, because Pete had a fucking life and problems of
his own and sometimes needed time to himself.
“Ryan!” Travis was suddenly yelling. Ryan looked to the right and saw the other
man running to him. “Ryan!” Travis gasped once he’d reached Ryan’s side. “My,
my majestic cheerleader! Lead me into the starry night with your songs and
chants! I must defeat Mark the fucking asshole, and regain my title as the Beer
Pong champion!”
Ryan smirked and nodded, ducking his head to follow Travis through the crowd.
He was happy to get away from Hayley. She was nice, but she wasn’t Ryan’s type
of person. Travis led him to a shitty ping pong table that looked like it had
been used for sexual activities and making meth. The Mark guy from before was
standing at the other end, leering down at Travis like he wanted to eat him
alive.
“I’m gonna fucking own your ass, Barker,” Mark cackled.
“You wish,” Travis replied in a low voice, like Harry Potter. Ryan grimaced. He
really didn’t like Harry Potter, and he knew Travis didn’t either. He wasn’t
sure why Travis made that reference, but he wasn’t sure what other reference
Travis could have made.
“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you!” Mark claimed before throwing his pong ball
and missing entirely, accidentally hitting Travis in the fucking eye, jesus.
Travis didn’t seem phased. He laughed in an almost psychotic way and tossed his
pong ball right into the far right cup full of what had to be vodka. Ryan
grimaced and watched Mark throw it back like a good sport, though the man
looked like he was going to vomit once the cup was no longer obscuring Ryan’s
view of his face.
Ryan snorted and shook his head as he realized that Travis was definitely going
to kick Mark’s ass.
. . .
“Ryan!” Travis whispered urgently. His breath smelled of tequila and mistakes,
but Ryan was a little shocked to hear that Travis wasn’t slurring his words
yet. After kicking Mark’s ass in beer pong, Travis had undone all of his
winnings and gotten just as fucked as Mark had become. “Ryan, did you… Did you
know, that, you’re, like, smart?” He giggled. “I-I should be angry when I’m f-
fucking wasted, but I’m totally not! But Ryan, you’re so smart!”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Ryan scoffed. “Write my thesis, become a doctor. Talk
about killing and psychology and then I’ll give seminars, carry the four, and I
just cured cancer!”
Travis giggled. “Hey,” he whispered in a lower voice. “Wanna watch me make out
with that girl from Kappa Psi?”
Ryan was having a bit of fun, and the alcohol was sitting in his stomach, warm
and relaxing, so he really didn’t think twice about playing along with a bit of
banter that was usually out of character for him. “Wow. I must be nobelium,
because I’m like no.”
Travis laughed so hard that he choked on what could have been his own spit. “Oh
my god, Ryan!” he suddenly whispered again, though this time it sounded more
like a hiss. “I know where to find a pool!”
Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Again with the pool?”
“Come with me!” Travis suddenly bellowed, standing and pulling Ryan to some
stairs that Ryan had only just now noticed. Travis seemed to know his way
around the place, even when he was absolutely smashed. Ryan let himself be
pulled along, simply because he was almost enjoying this. There were still too
many people, but Travis wasn’t going off and leaving Ryan alone, and Ryan still
felt the alcohol and the atmosphere of warmth.
Travis pulled him down a hallway and into a fucking bathroom, jesus.
“Oh god, no,” Ryan groaned. He heard some weirdly familiar giggling and looked
behind his back to see Hayley there, nursing a glass of rum and cola, and Ryan
was surprised no one had died of fucking alcohol poisoning yet. He wondered how
much money had been spent on this shit. He wondered if this night would end to
the sirens of a police car or an ambulance.
“Help me fill the tub, Ryan!” Travis demanded.
“You better help him out,” Hayley snickered. “Before he drowns himself or
something.”
Ryan smiled wryly and stepped forward, running the tub. Travis giggled and
climbed into the tub after taking off his shoes, taking off his socks, and then
putting his shoes back on, sock-less. “Socks are sacred,” Travis said with a
sagely nod of his head.
“Of course they are, sweetie,” Hayley said in a motherly manner.
Ryan had the tub halfway filled up, and was bent over the edge, holding himself
up with his free arm. Travis was giggling like a fucking loon and Ryan was
beginning to strain to keep himself upright.
“You know what you get when you cross a lion and a parrot?” Travis asked.
Ryan pitched forward and blacked out before he heard the punchline.
. . .
“Oh, h-hi,” Brendon greeted shakily with a broken smile. “My, my dad. He, uh…
He, he threw a glass at my head.”
Ryan felt very tired in the dream.
He wanted to fall asleep.
. . .
“You fucking cunt!” Ryan heard once he came to. He felt wet and cold and he was
having a much harder time breathing than he’d thought he should have felt.
Everything felt sluggish and weird and almost like the world was in slow
motion. “He drops into the fucking water and you don’t even try to help him?!
What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“I thought he was playing a joke!” a female voice yelled back. “I didn’t know
it was serious!”
“Oh god, Ryan,” Travis babbled. “Fuck, fuck, please tell me you can hear me.
Ryan? Are you there? Open your fucking eyes, Ryan!”
Ryan opened his eyes and coughed. Water spilled out of his mouth and Ryan
didn’t understand why.
“Oh my god,” Travis choked out.
Ryan dragged his eyes from Travis, to Mark, to Hayley, and then to strangers
standing outside and around and just fucking everywhere. He felt like a frog
stretched out on a slab during middle school dissection day.
“What the fuck happened?” Mark asked.
“He was playing a prank, jesus!’ Hayley accused, sounding more pissed than
anything else.
“He has fucking narcolepsy, you fucking bitch!” Travis shouted.
Ryan shut his eyes and blocked it all out.
. . .
“Jesus, Ryan,” Mikey sighed from the front seat. Ryan was sitting in the middle
aisle and Ray was driving and staying mysteriously silent. “You just can’t do
anything fun anymore, can you. The world really wants to kill you.”
Ryan nodded and stared at nothing, lethargic and just horribly tired.
“We’re gonna take you home and you’re gonna take a shower and hopefully get
some rest,” Mikey said. “And,uh, I-I told Gee what happened, so brace yourself
for that. And Josh is over, he’s spending the night, cause, you know, we
planned on figuring shit out with the band tomorrow, but that doesn’t have to
happen now. I’m sure you’re tired.”
“It’s starting to look like I’m more of a walking train wreck than you, Mikey,”
Ryan murmured.
“That’s a stretch,” Ray said with an easy tone, like he was trying to lighten
the mood.
“The future just keeps happening,” Ryan mumbled. “I don’t know why, and I don’t
know how, and I wish I didn’t, but I-I know I can’t stop it, so I just gotta
hold on? I just gotta hold on and hope I don’t get thrown off into the nothing
of nonexistence.”
Ray and Mikey were both very quiet for a moment.
“I swear, if you did fucking drugs on top of nearly drowning, I’m killing you,”
Mikey chuckled. “You’re a fucking mess.”
. . .
“I saw Sarah,” Brendon said softly.
Ryan was a bit surprised. It’d been nearly a week since he’d last heard from
Sarah. They hadn’t been calling, but they did trade emails frequently, where
she would update Ryan on how nothing had progressed. It was actually rather odd
for Ryan to go more than a day or two without word from Sarah, but he knew that
she was a regular teen with school and responsibilities and shit. He would
prefer to hear form her very often, for both Brendon’s sake, and Sarah’s, but
he understand otherwise.
“You saw her?” Ryan asked. “Are you sure?”
Brendon pursed his lips. “Well, I-I mean, I didn’t see her. But I heard people
talking about her, a-and one of them had a photo.” He sighed. “I just wanna
find Sarah, you know? To make sure she’s okay.”
Ryan nodded. He’d been very hopeful for a second that Sarah had gotten through
to Brendon, but that was obviously too good to be true. The likelihood of that
happening was slim to none. Ryan wasn’t nearly as cynical as he’d been a year
ago, but things were still staying difficult to process optimistically.
“Is your head okay?” Ryan asked instead. Brendon mirrored his physical self
with his dream self, so Ryan was relieved to see no visible wounds from the
incident, which he hoped meant that nothing permanent had happened to Brendon.
“Kinda sore,” he mumbled. “I-It didn’t bleed, just bruised badly. The glass
didn’t break. That’s a good thing, so I didn’t have to clean it up. I just, I-
I think I may have a dent. In my skull.” He smiled brokenly. “That makes four.”
“Four?” Ryan repeated, frowning.
“Four,” Brendon affirmed. “Four dents in my head.”
Ryan felt a little dizzy with disgust. “I fucking hate your family,” he huffed.
“You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve anything like that, and you
especially don’t deserve to be hurt. You deserve to be kept on a fucking pillow
of awesome feathers and beanie bag chairs and—”
“What’s a beanie bag chair?” Brendon interrupted, looking curious again.
Ryan’s heart thumped too quickly in his chest, and Ryan was so fucking far gone
for this guy. “It’s this cool type of chair that’s just a huge pillow filled
with plush pellets and stuff, and it’s just really comfy, and stuff.” Ryan
didn’t actually like them all that much, because they were difficult to get out
of, and sometimes Ryan would hurt his shoulder or his back and feel like an old
geezer for the rest of the day.
“I want one,” Brendon said with a breathless smile.
Ryan decided that he was gonna by a beanie bag chair. And a beanie bag bed. And
maybe a waterproof one for the shower. He was going to buy those small beanie
bags people used in gym class and put them in Brendon’s shoes and in the butt
of his pants and make it feel like the kid was walking on fucking beanie bags
for the rest of his fucking life.
“We should kiss again,” Brendon suggested shyly. Ryan almost reacted
immediately and did just that, but he looked into Brendon’s eyes and, again,
saw this fear in him that made Ryan think twice. Ryan was pretty sure he was
over the age thing. Brendon was his soulmate and sometimes Brendon moved his
hips in a way, or made a certain sound, that got Ryan fucking dripping, and
that was okay. But the fear was not something that Ryan could function with.
Ryan couldn’t kiss Brendon when he looked scared.
Brendon looked like he almost sensed Ryan’s trepidation and whimpered.
“Please?” he asked. “Just, I-I really miss you. We have kissed since my
birthday.” Brendon shrugged. “I wanna be closer to you.”
Ryan sighed and ran a hand over his face. “It’s not a good idea,” he said
lamely.
“Why not?”
Ryan grimaced, because he didn’t know how to put this into words. “You… You’re
scared,” he murmured. “I can’t kiss you when you’re like this. When you’re
broken and shaky, you know? I love you. I don’t want to take advantage of you,
or make things worse.”
“You think you can make things worse?” Brendon asked, obviously finding the
idea morbidly humorous.
“I have before,” Ryan reminded him softly.
“When?” Brendon challenged. “You mean when I was basically abusing you like my
dad does? Ryan, I-I really hurt you. The way I literally tore you apart. I made
you afraid of me, Ryan, I remember how you’d flinch away from me. You were
literally terrified of me, Ry, and I kept hurting you and breaking your heart,
and you never once tried to leave me. Whatever you think you’d done to hurt me,
just know that I believe what you did was justified.”
Ryan worried his lower lip between his teeth.
Brendon sighed. “You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to kiss me.”
Okay, no, Ryan was not going to let Brendon think that.
Ryan shuddered and didn’t give himself the time to second guess this. Ryan
leaned in and kissed Brendon sweetly, or at least, he tried to make it sweet.
He shouldn’t have barreled in like that, but Brendon didn’t seem very upset
about it. He didn’t flinch or look startled, thank god. Ryan moaned against
Brendon’s lips and shuddered again. He reached down and tangled his fingers in
the front of Brendon’s shirt, and that was when it started to get bad.
Ryan lost his mind to the taste of Brendon. He’d been scared of this, he’d been
scared of losing himself to what he wanted, what he needed. He’d never trusted
himself to have self control when it came to something this intimate with his
fucking soulmate, jesus. He needed to feel as close to Brendon as he could
since they couldn’t be together in person, fuck, fuck,Ryan fucking needed this
more than he needed to breathe.
Ryan pressed forward and deepened the kiss without actually meaning to. He
slipped his tongue in past Brendons’ lips and moaned at the feeling of the
heat, and jesus, he was inside Brendon, his tongue was fucking inside is
soulmate. Ryan felt like he was going to lose his mind.
“S-stop,” Brendon suddenly gasped against Ryan’s mouth and fuck, fucking fuck!
Ryan tore himself away from Brendon, panting for breath and trying not to cry
as he took in how fucking scared Brendon looked. He couldn’t stand it. He
couldn’t stand what he’d done. He’d made Brendon feel fear, and with something
that was supposed to be fucking loving, oh god.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan choked out. “I-I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”
Brendon pulled his knees into his body and didn’t look at Ryan. Brendon lifted
his hand to touch his fingers to his lips, wearing an expression Ryan couldn’t
read. Ryan wanted to move forward and hold him and comfort him, but he knew he
shouldn’t, so he felt like he couldn’t. He fucking…
“Oh god,” Ryan whimpered, covering his mouth, almost scared that he was about
to vomit, because he sure felt like it. “Brendon… I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know
what came over me, I’m so fucking sorry, Brendon, B, b-baby. I didn’t mean to,
I would never mean to hurt you, a-and I never meant to scare you or make you
feel uncomfortable or hurt you, god, fuck! I-I’m so sorry, I knew I shouldn’t
have—”
“It’s okay,” Brendon interrupted. “I-I was the one who made you kiss me.” He
shrugged, still curled up protectively. “You told me we shouldn’t, but I kept
pressing. I-it was my fault.”
Ryan felt even fucking worse now that Brendon was trying to take the blame.
Brendon refused to speak to Ryan for the rest of the night.
. . .
“You really can’t blame yourself for that,” Travis told him while they sat at
their old stomping grounds— the lab with the chairs with wheels, takeout
Chinese settled in their laps as they discussed Ryan’s thesis, though they had
gotten off on a tangent when Travis had finally gotten Ryan to open up about
why he looks so upset.
“I mean, I know that since you’ve taken all these psych classes, you know the
worst things about the worst people, and probably even worse than that, but
you’re not them you know? You’re not a monster like they are. Or were. But
you’re not above being human, either. You’re warm blooded and you’re a dude, so
you’ve got a dick. That means you fall in love faster than women, and you make
decisions with your dick because we’re assholes.”
“No, we’re not,” Ryan corrected with a frown. He was tired of men for being
looked down upon, just because they saw sex in a different way from their
feminine counterparts. “Men see sex as a way to become closer to someone, and
after the sex, they get the intimacy. Women are the opposite. The intimacy
leads to the sex. Neither one is right, and neither one is wrong, so stop with
this bullshit.”
Travis paused. “Wow. Okay. Didn’t know you were such a public speaker when it
came to that. Usually, you just throw your hands in the air when it comes to
politics and shit. This, though? This passion? It’s new.” He grinned. “I like
it.”
Ryan just shook his head.
“I really don’t think you should blame yourself,” Travis began again. “You’ve
only ever done what’s best for Brendon. No one can blame you for losing
yourself in him, if only for a moment.”
Ryan sighed and nodded. “So, my thesis.”
Travis was quiet for a moment as he thought, before he smiled. “I know what you
gotta write about,” he said.
Ryan raised a questioning brow.
“The human spirit,” Travis stated proudly. “And our ability feel courage.
Define that shit, you know? And show examples. Explore what it takes to break
through that barrier of fear that leads to true bravery.”
Ryan paused, mulling it over in his head.
“Dude,” he breathed. “That… that’s awesome.”
Travis grinned and smacked Ryan’s shoulder. “Get fucking to it, Ry.”
. . .
Ryan’s thesis was written in less than a month, and he was so fucking proud of
it. He had so much to talk about, so much more to say than he’d ever imagined
saying before. In class, Ryan had always been the realistic— and most
pessimistic— devil’s advocate among his fellow students. He was always the
first to suggest the worst, and always the last to believe a happy ending. He’d
been psychoanalyzed by all of his professors, and all of them had known about
his wretched childhood the second they had a conversation with Ryan that
surpassed ten sentences. They could all see right through Ryan’s trauma and saw
the little kid who wasn’t loved by his parents and found love in his friends
instead.
Still, Ryan couldn’t stand writing another paper of dismal attitudes and dark
skies. He was a sad person, that was just how his brain worked. He had a hard
time finding the positive things in life and he wasn’t able to see the silver
lining, and all of his professors knew that. Every single one of them read
Ryan’s numerous papers and saw the depression and anxiety and, well, PTSD. Ryan
had borderline symptoms of PTSD that manifested in lethargy and apathy that
really shouldn’t be found in someone his age who had never been in a war. Ryan
was an abnormality. And so was Brendon.
Ryan was determined to make this paper have a glimmer of hope for Brendon. If
he could show Brendon story after story after story of people who had been
through horrific things and tell Brendon that they all made it out alive and
for the better, then Brendon could know that he was able to do the same.
Brendon would be able to fight back the nightmares and come out stronger, full
of life and light.
The first line was weird— “LMF. It means you’re a coward. Officially.”
Ryan couldn’t remember where he’d heard that term first, but he knew it meant
“Lack of Moral Fibre.” It truly meant that you were unfit to be put in
important and critical situations because you were too much of a coward to get
the job done. Ryan was a pessimist and he had to open his thesis with examples
of the human ability to feel courage being pushed to the brink and crushed
under the weight of what the world was capable of. He didn’t know any other
world better. Hopelessness was Ryan’s middle name, and he knew that the safety
razor in your hand could be the most dangerous weapon in the world.
But Ryan was also beginning to realize that the world was ugly, and full of
beautiful people.
Travis helped him reach out to people he could interview, and even dug up court
cases and public speeches and protests that fit the criteria of what Ryan
needed. Ryan chose three stories. One was the well known struggle of Martin
Luther King Jr. who stood up against death threats and came out on top. Another
was the story of the one and only Mikey Way, who fought and fought and fought,
and was finally getting married to the man he loved, though Ryan didn't include
Mikey’s real name for privacy reasons, and gave him the alias, “Inigo Montoya.”
The last story meant more to Ryan than he’d thought it would. It was about this
girl who’d been molested by her uncle, her mother’s brother, for almost three
years. She’d kept silent and with-gone the abuse with a stiff lower lip and her
head ducked. She was terrified to tell anyone and had sworn that she would take
the secret to her grave, because she was ashamed of herself and ashamed of what
she thought she’d let happen to herself. When she’d turned sixteen, she met one
of her cousins during a family reunion, the son of her mothers’ sister. In the
dark of the small den of the house the family reunion was taking place in,
she’d played Halo and learned that her cousin was being touched by the same
man.
The next morning, she left for the police station and reported her uncle to the
authorities. A month later, they took the case to court. The girl testified and
detailed everything that had been done to her. The fear and shame had left, and
the entire case, she looked only to her cousin, who was too afraid to testify
beside her. She’d stepped up and done what was right for her cousin, and not
herself.
That was the concept Ryan wrote about. The ability a human had to do the most
insane and terrifying things, not for his or herself, but for someone they
loved. It had nothing to do with the cowardice of the other person, and
everything to do with his or her ability to know what it meant to sacrifice his
or her comfort and safety for the betterment of another.
Ryan needed Brendon to understand this idea, and live it. He needed Brendon to
find the courage to do what was right for more than himself. He needed Brendon
to make the decision to live outside of fear.
Forty-three pages, and Ryan was proud of every word.
. . .
Pete and Patrick went home to LA, working on a new album (in the preliminary
stages) and getting ready for the tour Hayley had mentioned. Ryan was kinda
happy to have the house no longer filled to the brim, but Pete was Pete, and
Patrick was becoming a close friend, and Ryan missed the not even an hour after
they left.
. . .
Ryan stumbled out of bed after staying until three A.M. to finish his homework/
classwork/fucking atrocious workload. Doubling up on online courses was hell.
You were recommended to take two courses every half semester, and never any
more than three. Ryan was taking four, sometimes five, every half semester. His
grades were less than exemplary, and he definitely wasn’t going to end on a
high academic note, but Ryan wasn’t looking for credentials, he was looking for
the knowledge. He remembered what he needed to remember for Brendon, and that
was it.
He wasn’t going to hear back on his thesis till the end of the semester, which
was a week away, and Ryan was feeling the metaphorical heat, but confidence was
a thing, and ignorance could be forced, if he really tried.
He was going to be fine. Ryan knew he was going to be fine.
He was tired as hell and making frozen waffles in the microwave because Frank
had a bagel in the toaster, and no one had said Ryan couldn’t microwave
waffles, so fuck them, seriously.
“You look so chipper,” Frank snorted. He was sitting at the dining table,
drinking coffee, eating cereal, and reading the funnies without any sort of
dedication. “You gotta calm down, Ryan, you’re too fucking happy and way too
energetic.”
Ryan flipped him off as he poured himself some coffee.
Frank returned the crude gesture as he flipped to the other side of the
funnies. “You’re so happy, Ry. I hate it.”
“Shut up or I’m snapping your neck,” Ryan griped as he sat down. He was
optimistic, but seriously fucking tired. This workload would kill him if it was
for more than a semester. “I seriously am not ready to listen to stupid banter
and shit after all the stuff I did last not.”
“Oh my,” Frank drawled, smirking mischievously. “I didn’t see Josh come by.
Should I have heard something? I mean, you and he aren’t very quiet.” He
smirked. “Sometimes we hear you through the walls. It gets Gee so riled up,
god. You’ve got no fucking idea.” Frank bit his lip coyly, looking off into
nothing. “He throws me onto my back and just fucking rides me, his ear pressed
to the wall, listening. It’s so fucking hot, Ry, you’ve got no fucking idea how
hot it makes him.”
Ryan stared at Frank. “I cannot believe you just told me that.”
Frank cackled and took another bite of his cereal. “You’re doing okay, right?”
he asked after a moment. “Like, you and Josh? Everything’s gonna be fine?”
Ryan nodded without hesitation. He knew they’d be fine. “We’re not gonna have
sex or anything anymore, but there’s no way in hell that I’m going to lose him,
you know?”
“Really?” Frank asked. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Ryan frowned. “I’m not going to lose him,” he said firmly, leaving no room for
argument for Frank. “I’m not going to abandon people who have always been there
for me just because I’m entering a new stage in my life. You don’t throw people
aside for new ones. It’s a fucked up thing to do. Just because someone needs
you, doesn’t mean you can ignore the others who have relied on you longer.”
Frank raised his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. You’ve always
been the smart one.”
Ryan sighed and hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I just, I’m tired and
I’m getting irrationally defensive over this shit. People have been asking that
and every time I tell them my answer, they act like I’m doing something wrong,
but they don’t get it. They’re stupid.”
Frank pursed his lips. “Okay. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I mean it,” Ryan insisted. “They’re fucking dumb. They see only one way and
the way they see it is so messed up, you know?”
“I don’t get it,” Frank sighed.
“Okay, okay.” Ryan sat at the table in front of Frank. “Think about it. Humans
are people of all or nothing, right? They either smoke or they don’t. They have
money, or they don’t. They have a family or they don’t, they have a job, or
they don’t, and they think that once you gain something, you have to let
something else go. A new job means losing your coworkers and buying new food
means throwing out the old food to make room.”
Frank nodded slowly. “Uh, yeah. I get that.”
“But they’re wrong,” Ryan said. “They’re fucking wrong, and it makes them
assholes, because they refuse to believe they’re not wrong. But no one thinks
to move the older food to the front of the pantry, and keep the new stuff in
another place to save it. They don’t see that just because they don’t have
money, they have a home. They have furniture and food and shit. They don’t
smoke and that makes them better than people who do, and they’re too selfish to
stay friends with old coworkers because they don’t think it’s worth the time.
“I can’t live by those rules,” Ryan continued. “I don’t think that now that I
have Brendon, I can’t be with Josh. Not sexually, of course, because Brendon is
my soulmate and Josh was me and him having fun. But Josh is my best friend and
I’m not losing him just because people think Brendon should have all my
attention. I love Brendon. More than anything. But he’s not the only person in
my life, and he’s not the only person I love.”
Frank nodded again. “But what about—”
“Ryan!”
Ryan and Frank both started when they hear Ray shout Ryan’s name. Ray barreled
into the kitchen, smiling impossibly wide.
“Ryan!” Ray gasped. “Holy shit!” He laughed. “Holy shit!”
“What?” Ryan asked. He wasn’t worried about something being wrong, because if
something were wrong, Ray wouldn’t be smiling.
“You won’t believe who Sarah’s social worker is!” Ray exclaimed.
Ryan waited for the answer.
Ray laughed joyfully. “My dad!”
Chapter End Notes
     fair warning, there's three chapters left after this one.
     technically four, but that's another story (literally).
***** Vacuum Metastability Events for a Nihilistic State of Mind *****
Chapter Summary
     looks like we (almost) made it
Chapter Notes
     i promise my chapter titles make sense if you google it
     like like this one?
     it just means "details of the chaos theory for people who believe in
     literally nothing"
     see total sense
Ryan just stared.
And stared.
And fucking stared.
And about a minute or so in, he realized he wasn’t breathing anymore, because
light splotching in the peripherals of his eyes wasn’t normal and he was
feeling a bit dizzy, and, jesus, his knees felt like jello.
Ryan dropped to the floor with a whimper that he couldn’t actually say for
certain came from him. Frank was suddenly on the floor beside him, and Ray was
sitting in front of him, so Ryan started laughing, and maybe even crying a
little. He lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Ray’s neck, crying and
smiling and laughing and shaking and losing his mind to the joy and relief that
was drowning his lungs and mind. Ray returned the embrace after a moment of
hesitation, probably to see if Ryan was actually okay or not. It felt good to
hug someone with the end game clear in sight, and he wasn’t sure why. Hugs were
kinda nice. He wasn’t sure why this suddenly felt so different and so fucking
amazing, fuck. Ryan knew he was getting Ray’s shirt wet, but he couldn't help
it. He could see Brendon in his mind’s eye, and this didn’t feel real.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked in a tiny voice.
Frank snorted and Ryan felt Ray shake his head. “You’re awake,” Ray said. “This
is the waking world.” Ryan heard a smile forming in Ray’s voice. “You’re gonna
bring him home, Ry.”
“Oh god,” Ryan choked out. “Oh fucking god, thank you. Ray, thank you, s-so
fucking much, thank you, thank you!”
Ray held on tighter and kissed the top of Ryan’s head, because he was a
naturally affectionate person when it came to people crying. He rubbed Ryan’s
back and ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, obviously trying to soothe him,
and it was kinda working.
“I’m setting up dinner with my dad,” Ray said. “He’s flying in today, actually,
and he wants to meet you and we’ll work stuff out, okay? We’re gonna meet him
and talk about what needs to be talked about. About Brendon and what our game
plan is and how we’re gonna grab him. We’ve got to be careful, Ry, you know
that, right? This could be very difficult. We’ve got to somehow get him away
from his family without getting caught. Or, we wait until he’s eighteen and
legally able to leave them.”
Ryan shook his head. “Too long,” he whimpered. “He, he could be dead by then.”
He heard Ray sigh. “You’re right. We, we’re gonna do everything he can.” Ray
rubbed Ryan’s back again. “Okay, dinner, tonight. He’s coming in from North
Carolina, so he’ll land at, or around, two, and he’s used to flying a lot, so
jet lag doesn’t really destroy him like it does to most people. He likes all
food. Where do you wanna eat?”
Ryan snorted, wanting to sound almost condescending, but it came out weak and
strangled with emotion. “I-I have no fucking clue. Kinda wrapped up in the fact
that I have a connection to Brendon that goes beyond a state-line.”
Ray nodded. “So, Olive Garden?”
. . .
“H-hi, Mr. Toro,” Ryan greeted shakily. He held his hand out to the older man,
who smiled patiently and took Ryan’s hand and shook it. He was just as tall as
Ray, and he had the same curly hair, but it was cut short and was professional
and tidy. He had laugh and frown lines and his eyes were the same color as
Ray’s. There was a soft gaze in his expression, like he knew the anxiety Ryan
was feeling personally. Ryan was’t actually sure if Mr. Toro knew what this was
like.
“Call me Mr. Ortiz,” he said softly. “It sounds a little less exotic.”
“I like Toro,” Ray cut in. “It’s more exotic,” he parroted. Ray was smirking at
his dad, a familiar air of comfort settling on the both of them that Ryan could
see. Ryan kinda liked it. He’d never had a good relationship with his father,
fucking obviously. He’d never seen good relationship, either. Spencer’s parents
had tolerated him, and Ryan hadn’t know the parents of anyone else, really. His
own parents had taught him not to trust adults. But this…
“So, I’ve heard quite a few things about you,” Mr. Ortiz said. “Some of them,
not so great.”
Ryan’s face fell. He realized, in that moment, that Mr. Ortiz was the social
worker interviewing someone who wanted to adopt one of his kids. And Ryan knew
that he wasn’t going to pass his test.
“Abusive father,” Mr. Ortiz began to list, actually looking down at a pad of
paper in front of him that Ryan hadn’t noticed before. “Neglectful mother, who
then outright abandoned you. Very little parental guidance, less than exemplary
grades. You have been shown to demonstrate self destructive tendencies, had a
suicide attempt. You don’t have a job, and you don’t show any sort of ability
to tend for a child who has experienced what I’ve been told Brendon has
experienced. I’m not very sure you’re a good fit for him.”
Ryan felt sick.
Ray narrowed his eyes. “Really, dad?” he asked, sounding a little angry, or, at
least, annoyed. “Are you kidding? I know Ryan. And Ryan’s been going to school
to learn how to help Brendon. That’s all he’s done for six years. He’s been
giving this kid everything he has. I didn’t bring you here to tell him
everything you think is wrong with him, because Ryan knows that list better
than you do. I brought you here to help him. And anyone is better than what
Brendon is going through right now.”
Mr. Ortiz sighed. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said, closing the
little book. Ryan was staring at the salad bowl, feeling like a frog cut open
and on display on the table. “Brendon will be experiencing some serious trauma,
possibly even night—”
“Nightmares and night terrors,” Ryan cut in, because this was his area of
expertise. He didn’t think he could prove his worth to this man, but he wanted
to try. Then again, Ryan was very used to disappointing every single father
figure in his whole fucking life, jesus. Why break the pattern now? “He’s gonna
experience serious nightmares, especially once we come into contact and the
dreams stop,” Ryan continued anyways. “He has never, to my knowledge,
experienced sleep without the shared dreams coming into play. He doesn’t know
what it’s like to sleep alone, so I am prepared to stay awake for him for the
first few nights, to keep an eye on him.”
Mr. Ortiz sat back, thinking. “… Go on.”
Ryan took in, then let out a shaky breath. “He’ll also be experiencing a severe
distrust of persons that he cannot mentally connect himself to. So, I-I’m going
to keep contact with outsiders to a minimum. I’ve mentioned all of my friends
quite often to him, so he’ll easily be able to make that connection without
much prodding on my part. He’ll match names to faces and stories and he’ll soon
create his own connections to the people.
“Once I’ve got him feeling comfortable at our home, I’m going to work on
helping him grow accustom to a block around our house, then a bit further,
growing the area every month or so. I don’t want to overwhelm him with out
surroundings, but he will have to learn to cope and function in this world,
which very rarely allows people time to stop and think.
“A-after that, I want to help him find something he can love.” Ryan glanced to
Ray, to see if he was doing this right, and Ray smiled encouragingly at him, so
he took that as a good sign. “I need him to find things that make him feel
comfortable with the world. I-I remember him being interested in music? I have
a guitar, and I was gonna offer to teach him a few things. Maybe get him vocal
lessons if he’s interested in that. Buy him books, teach him to read and write,
because he has very poor reading and writing skills. I’m just gonna help him
explore the world.”
Mr. Ortiz looked at Ryan for a moment longer. Then he nodded. “Okay,” he
sighed. “Yeah, sure. We can work with that. And I hope I can assume that you
won’t be alone during all of this?”
Ryan faltered.
“Of course not,” Ray said. “I’m gonna be there, so Mikey’s gonna be there, and
then Gerard and Frank are with Mikey, who’s with me, and then we’ve got Josh,
who won’t want to be far from Ryan. Pete and Patrick are good friends, and I’m
sure we can go to them for support if it’s needed. Ryan’s gonna have his
degree, and he’s gonna be a doctor in psychology.”
Ryan choked on air, because it hadn’t occurred to him until Ray had said it
that he was going to be a fucking doctor, jesus.
“He’s gonna have all of us there to support him,” Ray promised. “We’re all
family.”
Ryan smiled shakily.
Mr. Ortiz sighed again and nodded. “So, how are we going to do this?”
Ray shrugged and Ryan also shrugged.
“Because you know that I can’t legally take Brendon from anyone, right?” Mr.
Ortiz looked a bit sad. “Not unless I am called. And if I were called, I
wouldn’t be able to take him to you. I’d have to put him into the system, into
a foster family, and then he could only come to you once he turned eighteen. I
can’t legally bring him to anyone.”
Ryan’s face fell.
“Are you sure?” Ray asked beseechingly. “I mean, he, he’s Ryan’s soulmate. That
has to count for something in the legal system, right?”
Mr. Ortiz shook his head. “I can’t prove that Brendon is Ryan’s soulmate in a
court, and neither can you. It doesn’t matter how much information you can
share about each other that you say in sensitive. Everyone is skeptical and
even cruel in the courts. We can’t prove anything, so they won’t do anything.”
Ryan started to tear up.
“Oh god,” he choked out, before bringing his hands to cover his face. He was
ashamed that he was crying like this but, he was too fucked up to even be
really upset about it. He wasn’t going to be able to reach Brendon. “Fuck,” he
sobbed. Ryan was crying now. He didn’t care. “I-I need him, fuck!”
Mr. Ortiz looked down at his silverware. “I’m so sorry, boys. Legally, I cannot
help you. I cannot tell you Brendon’s address, nor can I take you to him… But,
I can, maybe, suggest a certain plan of action to a certain person who has
contact with Brendon on a significant, nightly basis. And I can suggest a way
of Brendon meeting a certain person’s friend’s father. I can suggest that to
that father that he should drive Brendon across the country, under the guise of
road trip, without alerting certain legal persons. And I can also suggest that
the person who sees Brendon nightly should be at a certain place, at a certain
time, on a certain date, to pick up a certain someone.”
Ryan stared at Mr. Ortiz, speechless.
“Dad,” Ray breathed, smiling. “Really?”
Mr. Ortiz smiled and shrugged. “Consider it an early Christmas present, Ray.”
. . .
“So, he’s where?” Frank asked as he folded laundry with Ryan.
“Spring City, Utah,” Ryan sighed.
Frank snorted. “Mormon capitol, or whatever. Mormon state. That’s so fucking
ironic.”
Ryan nodded his agreement as he folded Mikey’s boxers. “Why does Mikey even
bother with underwear?” he asked sarcastically. “Ray’s just gonna take it off.”
Frank cackled and held up what was a pair of lace, red panties like it was a
surprise or a gift.
Ryan stared at them. “Gee’s?” he asked after a moment.
Frank smirked and tucked the panties into his back pocket. “Gee’s,” he affirmed
with a wink.
“I wanna move to LA,” Ryan told Frank.
“Me too,” Frank hummed. “I’d love to come along. I think it’d be fun. Kinda
tired of the cold, you know? And LA is a good place to be, especially now,
until the world ends, that is. Expensive, but Gee’s comic is paving it’s way,
you know? Umbrella Academy?” Frank smiled to himself, obviously very proud of
his husband. “Gee wants to move.”
“Yeah, to New York?”
Frank shrugged. “Not just New York. He doesn’t want to move to a certain place,
he just wants to move out of Chicago.”
“I can relate,” Ryan sighed.
Frank smirked again. “So. LA?”
Ryan nodded and folded more of Mikey’s weird underwear that was covered in
anime characters that he couldn’t name. “Does Mikey even watch anime?”
Frank snorted, and shook his head. “No.”
. . .
“Jesus, Mikey, the downbeat!” Josh laughed. He was sitting at his drum set that
he’d brought to Ryan’s place so they could do their shit in the garage. Josh
kept talking about how empty his room felt. Josh and Mikey were fuddling their
way through something Ryan had written. Ryan didn’t very much like the words at
all, but they were from his younger years, and Ryan liked to think he was past
that shit, even though he knew he wasn’t.
He was also too scared to show anyone Camisado.
Not even Spencer had known that song existed, let alone the events that came
into play to prompt Ryan into writing the song. He wanted his friends to
believe Ryan had only tried to end his life once. Ryan didn’t like thinking
about that night. He didn’t like thinking about much these days, aside from
Brendon. He just wanted to focus on the good, and that was it.
“Maybe I would hit that down beat if you could even carry a beat,” Mikey
teased. He looked comfortable with the bass in his hands, connected to the amp
that was running from an extension cord into the house, same as the amp to
Ryan’s guitar. Josh didn’t need a fucking amp because he was already loud as
shit. Ryan had never seen anyone wail on a drum set like Josh did and it was so
much fun to watch. Ryan was entranced by the way Josh was still sweating,
despite how fucking cold it was. There’d been snow on the ground up until this
morning. Ryan wasn’t even sure why they were practicing outside, but he kinda
liked it.
“Okay!” Josh shouted, his breath floating into the air as a wisp. “This one’s
called, ‘Fuck You for Eating My Last Hot pocket’! One, two three, four!”
Neither Ryan, nor Mikey, played when Josh cued them in.
Josh giggled and wiped his nose that was dripping from the cold. “Am I cute
yet?”
“I wonder how many murders have happened around the world that involved a bass
player smashing in the drummer’s head with their instrument?” Mikey wondered
aloud dryly. “Can I get away with murder like that?” Mikey turned to look at
Ryan. “Ryan!” he called out, wanting Ryan’s attention, which was already on
Mikey, so what the fuck, jesus. “I’m gonna murder Josh with my guitar! So
either turn your back to this so you can claim you never saw it, or help me
out!”
“Why are you yelling?” Ryan asked with an annoyed drawl.
Mikey snickered and kicked uselessly at the dead grass, like he was trying to
kick the grass at Ryan, but that was useless and Ryan began to wonder if Mikey
had slept much last night.
“Okay, wait, so what was this called again, Ry?” Josh asked, mindlessly kicking
the drum.
“Dangerous Blues,” Ryan informed him with a nonchalant shrug that didn’t come
out as nonchalant as Ryan wished it had. He was really fucking nerve wracked
about actually showing people his lyrics in the context of them using it and
dissecting it and picking it apart and learning fucking everything that Ryan
wasn’t sure he wanted people to know.
“Dangerous Blues,” Josh repeated slowly, letting his tongue form around the
words. Josh smiled a bit, then winked at Ryan. “You’ve got awesome talent, Ry.”
Ryan just shrugged and fiddled with whatever tune took his mind off of the
anxiety.
. . .
“Okay, so, LA,” Gerard said as he scrolled through apartments and houses and
places they could live that had open places nearby, even next door, or
apartments that were side-by-side. Gerard had been looking for the past three
days, pouring over the information. Christmas was a week away, and the plan was
to get Brendon home before the presents were opened, even if it was at five
A.M.. Ryan didn't mean that in an artful prose sense— he wanted Brendon home
before Christmas morning began. He’d actually bought him gifts, and Ray was
going to great lengths to make what was probably Brendon’s first official
Christmas enjoyable and awesome and just everything Ryan wanted Brendon’s first
Christmas to be.
“I’ve found this one house,” Gerard said slowly. “It’s kinda big, but not too
big? It’s got a nice main house, and then there’s a pool, and then it also has
a nice little space that leads to a guest house.”
Ryan perked up. “Guest house?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Gerard affirmed with a small grin. “And, uh… Oh wait.” Gerard sat back
from the computer. “Mikey!” he shouted. “Frank, Ray!”
There was a pregnant pause, then Frank shouting back, “fucking what?!”
“C’mere!”
There was a long, collective groan, before footsteps sounded. Ray and Mikey and
Frank trudged into the room, thought Frank was the only one who looked like he
was personally offended by being pulled away from whatever the fuck he was
doing.
“So, I got a TV deal,” Gerard said in an almost unconcerned manner. Ryan
snapped his head towards Gerard, gaping. “And it’s a pretty big one,” Gerard
continued with a shrug. “I’ve got a couple meetings lined up, and they’re
including me in the storylines and shit, so I’m gonna have a lot more influence
than most people would, because they trust my story-telling skills. And
prospects are through the roof, we’ve got three producers already, and… yeah.
I-I’m gonna have a TV show.” He smiled a bit. “So, uh, it’s kinda good we’re
moving to LA, cause that’s where I need to be.”
“Holy shit,” Frank breathed, before lurching forward and taking Gerard’s face
in his hands, kissing him hard with his eyes shut. Frank pulled away with a
smack and slammed his fist into he air. “My fucking husband got a fucking TV
deal!” he shouted to Ryan, Mikey, and Ray, like they hadn’t been there for the
announcement in the first place. “I’m so fucking proud of him!” Frank turned to
Gerard. “I’m so fucking proud of you!”
Gerard giggled and blushed prettily, obviously a little embarrassed, but still
outwardly pleased. “So, yeah, uh… I-I can definitely afford to get us this
place.”

“What place?” Mikey asked, leaning in to look at the computer screen. His eyes
went wide and a slow smile curled across his lips. “That’s the fucking cutest
place I’ve ever seen. Where’s it nearby?” He craned his neck to read the info.
“Dude, just a few blocks away from Venice Beach? Holy shit, we can walk that
without a thought. Gee, no offense, but you are totally not able to afford
this.”
“My last paycheck was a little over fifteen thousand dollars,” Gerard said in a
tiny voice. Everyone just kinda stared at him after he’d told them that.
“No way,” Frank breathed. “What… W-what?”
Gerard shrugged. “Uh, there’s a lot of merch out. And panels and shit. And I
have a couple novels out for it. And then we’ve got growing stocks because the
TV show is gonna be amazing, and there’s no way it can’t go well, because I’m
in charge and they like what I’m doing. So, I mean…” He shrugged. “The only way
left to go is up.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you, baby,” Frank breathed, staring at Gerard like he
couldn’t possibly love him more than he already did. “Jesus, you…” He giggled
manically and reached up to run his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “This is one
fucking beautiful mind you have.”
Gerard blushed deeper and matched Frank’s giggle with his own.
“I really wanna fuck your brains out,” Frank said bluntly.
“Oh god,” Mikey snorted. “T-M-I, dude. I don’t wanna hear about what you’re
gonna do to my brother, explicitly. I’m cool if it’s through the wall and shit,
but man! C’mon, I don’t wanna know that shit. I just wanna put in earplugs and
go back to sleep.”
“All four of you are the horniest bastards I’ve ever met, and I can mimic all
of your orgasms sounds,” Ryan deadpanned.
Mikey narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Do it.”
Ryan arched a brow. 

“Do it,” Mikey repeated. “You won’t.”
Ryan snorted. He took a step back, leaned against the nearest wall, then shut
his eyes. Ryan went into his little zone of concentration, before his brow
twisted upwards in faux-pleasure. He let out little breathy gasps, the same
ones Mikey would make the closer he got. Ryan made the gasps increase in length
and pitch, before they became drawn out moans. Those quickly became a long,
wanton cry of pleasure, and then Ryan cut off the cry, dragged it into another
moan, then let out a final, tiny gasp. Then he went silent.
He opened his eyes and smirked. Frank and Gerard were looking very confused,
and Mikey looked skeptical, but Ray looked impressed.
“Spot on,” Ray confirmed.
“What?” Mikey demanded, turning to face his fiancé. “That sounds nothing like
me!”
“I think we should trust the man who makes you cum, as opposed to you,” Ryan
snorted. “You’re usually too far gone to remember your own fucking name. How
would you know how you sound?”
“He sounds just like that,” Ray said with a grin. Ray nudged Mikey playfully,
but didn’t look like he was going to back down on his statement.
Ryan just cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, then pat Gerard on the
shoulder. “I’m all for that place,” he said. “You guys will build an amazing
family there.” Ryan had realized, halfway through this inappropriate
conversation, that he’d just assumed he was welcome. He knew he couldn’t be.
Especially not with Brendon.
Gerard snorted. “That guest house is yours,” he said.
Ryan opened his mouth to argue, but Gerard grabbed one of his pens from the
desk and shoved it into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan just kinda stood there, because he
didn’t know what else to do. He had a fucking pen in his mouth.
Gerard and Frank giggled together again.
Ryan smiled around the pen and wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky to have
friends like these.
. . .
“Okay, Brendon?” Ryan called out softly, almost shakily.
Brendon looked up from where he was drawing in the dirt. Brendon had forgiven
him the very next night after Ryan had fucked up over the kiss, and Ryan was
almost horrifically grateful. They were both oddly relaxed for the night,
thought Ryan was only outwardly calm. He was inwardly about to lose his fucking
mind, because this was the night that Ryan was going to tell Brendon the plan.
“What’s up?” Brendon asked with a tiny grin.
“I have something to tell you,” Ryan said.
“Oh yeah?” Brendon grinned wider. “Me too! But, but you go first.” The boy sat
back on the ground and watched Ryan with thinly veiled interest. If there was
one thing Ryan loved, it was that Brendon was always excited to hear the things
Ryan had to say.
“Okay, so…” Ryan cast his eyes to the sides and looked around the room. This
dark, dreary, cold fucking room that manifested itself six years ago to reflect
Brendon’s life, the way his mind worked, and what Brendon saw in the future for
himself. Ryan was going to fucking burn this room to the ground one day. Maybe
today.
“We know how to get you out,” he began with more confidence than he had. “Ray’s
father is actually Sarah’s Social Worker, named Mr. Ortiz. He knows where you
are, roughly. He knows the city you’re in.”
“Where?” Brendon asked, eyes lighting up. Ryan wondered how badly Brendon had
wanted to know this.
“Spring City,” Ryan answered. “It’s in Utah.”
Brendon obviously had no idea what Utah was, but he just smiled and nodded.
Ryan had to continue. “He knows where you are, Brendon. And we know how to get
you out. This coming Thursday, it’s going to be December twenty-fourth. It’s
called Christmas Eve and your entire family will be going to a church service,
and will be gone for most of the night, and—”
“Oh yeah!” Brendon cut in with a gasp. “They’re letting me go with them!”
Ryan faltered. “… What?”
Brendon grinned so fucking wide, jesus. “My dad, he, he’s letting me come!
They’re letting me go to the service with them! I’m finally gonna be allowed to
meet everyone! I’m gonna see my neighbors and meet the priest and I’m gonna get
enrolled in the church program.” He kept smiling, kept fucking smiling like he
didn’t know that this was the worst thing that could happen to him. “I’m gonna
be part of my family, Ryan.”
Ryan shook his head. “They don’t love you.”
Brendon’s face fell. “… Yes they do.”
Ryan shook his head again. “They don’t love you, and I’m sorry. I don’t know
why they’re offering for you to come, but it’s all fake. It’s not real. Maybe
they want to set you up, maybe they want to have some fun, or maybe they’re
just fucking crazy.” Ryan’s money was on them being crazy. “They’ve done this
to you before, B. They’ve said they’re gonna integrate you, and then they turn
on your and break your bones and your spirit. This isn’t real, Brendon. They
don’t love you.”
Brendon was crying.
Ryan cautiously opened an arm to show he was there for comfort. Last time this
had happened, Brendon had lashed out and turned away, had cursed Ryan. Ryan
didn’t expect anything any better this time, so he was surprised when Brendon
let out this noise of heartbreak, and crawled into Ryan’s lap. And the fact
that Brendon wasn’t mad at him for speaking the truth was fucking amazing to
Ryan, and felt really good in ways that he couldn’t describe.
“I just wanna go to church,” Brendon cried softly. “I wanna be family.”
“You are family,” Ryan told him softly. “You’re my family.”
Brendon looked up at him with tearful eyes. “Really?”
Ryan smiled a bit and nodded. “Really.”
Brendon took in a shaky breath. “I-I still wanna try.”
Ryan’s heart sunk again.
“I have to, don’t I?” Brendon pulled away a bit, but he didn't leave Ryan’s
lap. He probably just knew that he’d upset Ryan and was putting instinctual
distance between them in case he had to run. Brendon wasn’t scared of Ryan, he
was just scared of everything.
“I want to be part of that family,” Brendon whimpered. “I just, I do. Even if
it’s stupid. I just want to see if I can be what they want. I wanna see if it’s
just who I was. I wanna see if I can change for the better.”
“You shouldn’t change at all,” Ryan said tersely. He was pissed with how
fucking brainwashed Brendon had to be at this point. Wanting to please a group
of people that had done nothing but hurt and hate him wasn’t rational or
logical. “I need to get you away from them, B. They’re destroying you, and you
don’t even realize it, so you’re letting them.” He shook his head, tightening
his grip on Brendon’s arm, but not enough to hurt. “I can’t stand what they’ve
done to you.”
“But I want to try…”
“You have tried, and look what they’ve done,” Ryan snapped, getting angry with
the circumstances and the way Brendon had been raised. “You’ve tried over and
over, you’ve done everything you can to try and get them to like you, but none
of it has ever worked, and it never will, so stop trying!”
Brendon flinched, but still didn’t pull away. That meant the world to Ryan.
“W-what do you want me to do?” Brendon asked in a trembling voice.
Ryan nodded. “Christmas Eve,” he began slowly, so Brendon could interject and
ask questions if he needed. “You won’t go with them. I know you want to, but
you shouldn’t, so you can’t. You’re not going to the service with them no
matter how angry they get, and you’re going to stay home. You’re going to look
at the window and watch the sun go down, and once it’s seven o’clock, you’re
going to sneak out of the house and go in the direction of Sarah’s house. You
know where she lived, right?”
Brendon shrugged. “I-I know the direction.”
“Good,” Ryan murmured. “Okay, you’ll follow the road in the direction of her
house. And you’re gonna keep walking until you see a blue pick-up truck with a
huge scratch along the hood.” Ray had told Ryan what his father’s personal
truck looked like. It had apparently been Mr. Ortiz’s car since he’d bought it
for himself during his high school years. “There’s going to be a man in the
car, with curly dark hair. His name is Mr. Ortiz and he’s Ray’s father and
Sarah’s social worker. You’re going to get in the car, but only after he tells
you the secret code that I’m going to tell you now, okay? Do not get in unless
he says the code.”
Brendon nodded. “What’s the code?” he asked with a firm sense of purpose. Ryan
felt like instating a code was helping Brendon feel at least a little in
control over this whole situation.
Ryan then remembered what the code was, and felt a little stupid.
“Uh, I-I saw a pink elephant last weekend.”
Brendon looked slightly confused. “Did you?”
“No,” Ryan sighed. “That, that’s the code. The phrase. I saw a pink elephant
last weekend.”
Brendon stared at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Ryan winced and shrugged. “Frank and I were trying to come up with something
you’d never hear outside of this situation, and that just…” He shrugged again.
“I mean, I’ve never heard anyone say it before. So it’s not like anyone could
get lucky.”
Brendon giggled a little. “I’ve never heard it either.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “So, what does Mr. Ortiz have to say to you?”
“I saw a pink elephant last weekend.”
Ryan nodded and kissed Brendon’s cheek. “Good job.”
Brendon looked to Ryan with wide eyes and a fierce blush.
Ryan faltered. “D-did I scare you again?”
Brendon shook his head and giggled again. “I really liked that.”
It was Ryan’s turn to blush. He cleared his throat and looked down at Brendon’s
chest to take his mind off the way Brendon had licked his lips before he
giggled, because, jesus, Brendon had some fucking amazing lips.
“Okay, so, uh, w-when you get in the car, Mr. Ortiz is gonna drive you to
Chicago, yeah? That’s where I live. And I’ll come get you from wherever he
decides is best to drop you off.”
Brendon nodded, though when Ryan glanced up, he noticed Brendon was watching
his own lips like Ryan had been trying to avoid with Brendon’s lips.
“Do you like kissing me?” Brendon asked.
Ryan bit his lip. “Very much so,” he finally relented, seeing no point in lying
to Brendon.
“Why?”
Ryan looked away from Brendon’s lips again, finding it very difficult to think
when he saw the way they glistened and formed and words and created impish
grins and shy smiles as Brendon spoke. “Because, I-I love you. You’re my
soulmate. I like kissing you because it makes me feel closer to you, and I like
kissing you because you like it, usually.” He shrugged his shoulders. “There’s
no real reason for it. Except, I-I like being able to feel you breathe.”
Brendon was listening with interest. His eyes were sparkling with delight, and
Ryan was finally beginning to catch on to how much Brendon liked being praised
and talked about and even fawned over. Ryan didn’t mind. He could talk about
Brendon for hours. He would, sometimes. Ryan had a habit of just going on and
on about Brendon and why he loved him to Mikey or Josh or anyone who was
willing to listen. That was what happened when you were in love with someone.
They would become all you could think about.
“You like feeling me breathe?” Brendon repeated almost giddily.
Ryan just went scarlet and nodded.
“I like feeling you breathe too,” Brendon hummed. “I like the way your lips
feel. They’re really soft. And, and I really like how your face is close to
mine, and I like how your nose bumps mine, cause you’ve got a cute nose and
stuff. And I-I like being able to see your eyes so close up.” Brendon actually
reached up and traced his fingertips along the top of Ryan’s cheekbones,
staring into Ryan’s eyes. “They’re really pretty,” Brendon mumbled. “They
remind me of a cats’ eyes. Or apple juice.”
Ryan laughed nervously because Brendon was really, really close, and Ryan
fucking need to kiss him again. Brendon must’ve been on the same page as Ryan,
because he leaned in and lightly tapped their lips together. It was the first
time Brendon had ever initiated a kiss without warning, first time ever not
asking for a kiss, too. Ryan’s heart was pounding in his chest and his mind was
heady with joy and soft pleasure, reveling in the way Brendon felt against him.
Brendon’s chest was pressed to Ryan’s, and he could feel Brendon’s heart beat,
and his lungs expand. This was far beyond feeling Brendon’s breath on his lips.
This was intimate and dangerous in the best way.
“Ry,” Brendon murmured into Ryan’s mouth. “H-how did you do the thing last
time? W-with your mouth?”
It was kinda awkward to talk like this, and when Ryan remembered what Brendon
was asking about, his heart raced twice as quickly.
“It felt good,” Brendon almost whispered, and that was all Ryan could take.
Desire laced through his veins and he surged forward, wrapping his arms around
Brendon and kissing him hard enough to bruise, pressing his tongue past
Brendon’s lips and almost devouring him. Brendon gasped against his lips, but
Ryan could feel a smile, and this was like fucking fire. He leaned forward and
Brendon tilted back. Ryan ended up pining Brendon to the fucking floor, lust
clouding his mind. He felt Brendon’s tongue meet his own tentatively and Ryan
lost his mind. He’d barely even allowed himself to picture this sort of thing
when he was awake, and the fact that Brendon was avidly meeting Ryan’s passion
was a fucking dream.
“I like t-touching you,” Brendon giggled. His voice was shaking in a way that
made a thrill go through Ryan. “B-but I…”
Ryan stopped kissing Brendon, but he couldn’t pull away. He brushed his lips
gently across Brendon’s, over and over, soaking him in. “What’s wrong?”
Ryan felt the moment Brendon started chewing on his lower lip, and he just
fucking melted. He knew Brendon well enough to know it was just a nervous tick
he’d learned from Ryan, and nothing serious.
“My… i-it’s, it’s hard again.”
Ryan pulled back a bit, blinked, looked down, then blushed when he saw that,
yes, Brendon was hard again, and Ryan’s hips were so fucking close to Brendon’s
that he could feel the heat and the arousal and, jesus, Ryan wasn’t strong
enough for this.
“We can’t,” he choked out, puling away.
Brendon looked hurt and opened his mouth to say something.
“But we will, “ Ryan interrupted with a promise.
Brendon shut his mouth and smiled.
. . .
Ryan wasn’t hard anymore when he woke up from that, and he had to change his
pants and sheets, smiling like an idiot to himself the whole time.
. . .
“Did he say he was gonna do it?” Ray asked softly. Ryan had been in a good mood
until Ray had asked that, because fuck, Brendon hadn’t actually agreed to the
plan. In fact, it was almost like he’d tried to distract Ryan from it.
“Fuck,” Ryan choked out. “He, he d-didn’t… He didn’t say he would. He just, he
kissed me instead?”
Ray frowned. “Uh, was that a question?
Ryan shook his head. “He, we kissed. And then he got hard and we just stopped
talking about the plan, fuck!”
Ray stared. “You guys kissed and he got hard,” he repeated slowly.
Ryan blushed. “Nothing happened.”
Ray just shook his head. “You need to make sure he does it,” he said softly.
“We need to make sure my dad picks him up. We need to make sure he knows all
the steps so we don’t fuck up and get him into even worse trouble.”
“He might not even want to come,” Ryan whimpered.
Ray just sighed. “I’d… had a feeling this would happen. I’d just kinda hoped
that it wouldn’t.” Ray shook his head. “Why wouldn’t he come?”
“He got invited to the church service and wants to go…”
Ray grimaced. “Why?”
Ryan just shrugged.
Ray nodded again. “Talk to him,” he said softly. “It’ll be okay. You’re meant
to be. And that’s it.”
. . .
“Should I be expecting you?” Ryan asked sadly later that night. He didn’t feel
very encouraged.
“Yes!” Brendon said with a grin. “Yeah, you will! Turns out, the service is the
night before whatever Christmas Eve is! So I can go, and then come with you!”
Ryan looked at Brendon, wishing he could read his mind. “That doesn’t work,” he
told him with a shake of his head. “We need you to leave during the service so
no one sees you sneak out and trues to follow you and hurt you.”
Brendon’s expression dropped. “Oh…”
Ryan sighed. “So… I won’t be seeing you.”
Brendon hesitated. “No. You… You will.”
Ryan paused. “… Really?”
Brendon nodded. “Just, move it a day ahead?”

That would mean Ray’s father would have to leave now to pick up Brendon
tomorrow night. Utah was at least nineteen hours away, by car. He would have a
long drive ahead of him, and Ryan would be forever in his debt.
“Two days,” Ryan murmured. “He’ll pick you up in two days. I’ll see you in
three.”
Brendon nodded. “I’m scared.”
Ryan smiled shakily. “Me too.”
. . .
The next day was fucking hell. Ray’s father made the drive and went dark.
Ryan waited to fall asleep and prayed Brendon would go with Mr. Ortiz.
. . .
Brendon didn’t fall asleep that night, so neither did Ryan.
. . .
“Ryan, you need to eat something,” Gerard pleaded. He was sitting across from
Ryan at the table, his hands covering Ryan’s, which were folded in front of
him.
Ryan shook his head. “If I eat, I’ll throw up,” he croaked out. “And I’m not
throwing up right now. But I haven’t talked to him in nearly forty-eight hours,
and Mr. Ortiz isn’t answering his phone.” Ryan looked to Gerard through his
bangs, fear naked on his expression. “What if he doesn’t come?” he asked in a
tiny voice. “If he does, then he’s rejected me. Straight up. I_I’ll never have
him, Gee. This is the focal point, the end of all things. If this doesn’t
happen, it never will.”
Gerard didn’t answer immediately, and Ryan knew he couldn’t argue or negate
what Ryan had said. “It’s getting late,” he said instead. “Maybe you should try
and get some sleep?”
“Its Christmas Eve,” Ryan choked out. “And I’m without him.”
Gerard ducked his head and squeezed Ryan’s hands. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan whispered, beginning to tear up. “It, it’s really fine. I
mean, what else did I expect?” He smiled, but it wasn’t real. “I’m so strung
out, Gee. I’m tired and kinda sad, and I’m beginning to realize that I probably
won’t ever have Brendon like I want him. Like, like I need him.” He tried to
brush his tears away, but they kept coming. “I wish I had what you and Frank
had. I wish Brendon was in my art class. I wish I had known him my whole life.
I wish he lived in the next county, or even just in California. I wish he
wasn’t where he is. I wish he had a better life. A-and I wish he would actually
let me give that to him.”
“He will,” Gerard said, though he didn’t sound very sure of it.
Ryan just leaned forward and rested his forehead on Gerard’s hands, wanting
some sort of comfort to get him out of his head. Gerard pulled one hand out
from under Ryan’s head to run his fingers through Ryan’s hair and massage his
scalp. It kinda felt really awesome.
“It’ll be okay,” Gerard promised. “It… It has to be.”
Ryan didn’t say anything. He was already being so fucking depressing that he
was surprised Gerard wasn’t just walking away from him at this point. Gerard
had his own problems. He shouldn’t have to sit here and listen to Ryan’s
bullshit.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You can go if you want.”
Gerard shook his head. “I’m gonna be here until you get news on Brendon.”
Ryan meant to comment, but he heard Ray’s phone go off from all the way down
the hall. Ryan froze and listened as hard as he could. He heard Ray’s feet hit
the ground, and then Ray was running into the dining room, hair a mess around
his head.
“We need to pick my dad up from the airport in ,” Ray gasped.
Gerard frowned for Ryan. “What? What are you talking about? That’s weird, Ray.
Does that mean anything.”
“It means he is five hours away from the airport and we need to pick him up in
five hours and get Brendon.”
***** I Fucking Told You that You’d be Home for Christmas (Osteogenesis
Imperfecta) *****
Chapter Summary
     brendon comes home
Chapter Notes
     things you should know before living in phoenix
     - there is an illness called valley fever that you guaranteed to
     contract when living here for more than a year
     - desert madness is an actual thing and people do go crazy
     - the full moon has a positive correlation to the number of crimes
     per night
     - half of the people living in phoenix came here specifically to die
     good luck
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“I can’t think of anything more stressful than this,” Mikey laughed nervously.
“Imagine closing your garage door while a zombie horde approaches, and you can
see them shuffling closer, and you know that if the garage door isn’t down far
enough by the time they get here, the door will reopen and the zombies will
come inside.”
Mikey narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Touché.”
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed, rushing around the house, frantically looking for
something to do. “What, what do I do? Gee, what am I supposed to do?” He tugged
at his hair. “Five hours, Gee!”
“Relax,” Mikey soothed. “Frank’s getting the Christmas tree, and I wrapped all
your presents for you. The house is gonna be the most festive thing since
fucking ever once you and Ray get back.”
“What?” Ryan asked, feeling dumb in his panic.
“We got a bunch of awesome decorations!” Gerard cheered, looking very excited.
“We, we didn’t want to put them up if it seemed like Brendon wouldn’t have been
able to come, but since he is, we’re gonna make the house so pretty and stuff
and then we’re get the eggnog and put up lights, a-and it probably won’t look
that good, but… it’s Brendon’s first Christmas. We wanna help you make it
something worthwhile.”
Ryan smiled shakily. “I love you guys,” he said. “I just, I-I do.” He ducked
his head. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Gerard just giggled. “And Josh is coming over. So, uh, handle that first,
yeah?” He pat Ryan’s shoulder. “You gotta be careful with this.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan said, because he knew it was. Josh was just amazing. He knew
it would be okay.
“But you should still talk to him.”
Ryan nodded, looking around the room. He smile breathlessly at his family.
“This is it…”
Mikey grinned and winked. “This is it.”
. . .
Ryan was lying  on his bed with Josh. It had only taken Josh about thirty
minutes to get to Ryan’s place. It was nine P.M., and Ryan felt bad, because he
knew he had to be tired. Josh didn’t seem very upset, though, because he was
lying atop Ryan and they were making out languidly, enjoying the touch and the
ebb and flow of the chemistry they shared.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Ryan breathed, because it was the truth. He fucking loved
Josh. Josh had helped him through so many awful things and had been his saving
grace, had even been— at one point— the only thing that kept Ryan going. His
life had been hard. He kinda fucking deserved this, so middle finger to the
heavens, Ryan was going to enjoy what he had and fight to make sure those
things and those people never left him.
Josh giggled. “Dude, Brendon’s coming!” he gasped into Ryan’s mouth. “We gotta
fucking celebrate!”
“We can’t be together anymore,” Ryan mumbled.
Josh pulled away and smiled understandably and shrugged. “We’re always gonna be
besties, RyRo,” he said. “You and me? We’re one of those once-in-a-lifetime
friendships that can morph into anything beyond, but never go back. You and I
are in the long run, and that makes me the happiest person alive, so I am never
letting you go, okay?”
Ryan nodded and leaned in to kiss Josh again. He really liked just making out
with him.
“Dude,” Josh murmured. “We should totally have break up sex.”
Ryan choked on a laugh. “We’re not breaking up, jesus.”
“I wanna have break up sex,” Josh insisted with a pout. “Come on, lemme fuck
you. One more time for the road, right? Lemme fuck that sweet, tight ass of
yours one last time.” He grinned and nipped at Ryan’s bottom lip. “Just once
more, Ry?”
Ryan blushed and nodded, because he couldn’t think past how good it felt to
know that Josh wanted a “one last time” with him. He kinda just figured he was
a fuck and forget type of person. Josh would have fun with him in the now, but
forget about it once it was over. It was weird to think that someone desired
him. Someone who wasn’t his soulmate.
“Lemme fuck you?” Josh asked in a softer voice, sounding almost intimate.
Ryan just nodded, because he couldn’t speak past a sudden lump in his throat.
Josh hummed softly and reached out to brush a tear from his eye that Ryan
hadn’t realized was even there. “It’s okay, Ry,” he murmured. “I’m not leaving
you after this. I’m gonna be with you forever. By your side, to the end. Okay?”
Ryan nodded again, his breathing beginning to tremble.
Josh grinned. “Love you, Ryan.” He bent down and kissed him sweetly, and Ryan’s
heart ached.
He wouldn’t let Josh go, because he knew he’d never find anyone like him ever
again.
. . .
Ryan wasn’t a fairytale kind of guy.
He didn’t have a fairy god mother, he didn’t believe in magic. He didn’t
believe in princes or princesses, or the pumpkin turning into a carriage, the
mice into horses, the glass slippers that somehow never broke. He didn’t
believe in happy endings.
No, Ryan believed that if you wanted a happy ending, you had to work for it.
You had to put your head to the ground and push as hard as you fucking could.
He didn’t believe that a giant would come into your house and make your life
better, and he didn’t believe that fairy god mothers were watching you to fix
the shiftiness in your life, and he definitely didn’t believe in angels that
did the same.
Ryan thought that if you wanted to live happily ever after in a castle, you had
to get down in the dirt and start that foundation yourself.
That being said, when Josh fucked him for the last time, he kinda forgot that
he didn’t believe in fairytales.
. . .
“You guys fuck right before Ryan’s soulmate gets here?” Frank asked, shaking
his head. “There’s so much irony in that.”
“The opposite of wrinkly!” Mikey cut in as he untangled a string of Christmas
lights. Frank had the tree up and Gerard and Mikey were helping him decorate.
It was a handsome tree.
“No, it isn’t,” Ryan sighed. “The opposite of wrinkly is flat. Irony is a verb
that you incorrectly attached a “y” at the end of.”
“You’re such a killjoy, Ry,” Josh snickered.
Gerard suddenly gasped in air like a fish out of water. “Oh my god that’s it!”
He suddenly darted away, to his room, slamming the door.
Frank watched him, completely clueless.
“I don’t think it’s wrong or anything that Ryan and Josh fucked one last time,”
Mikey said.
Josh grinned up at Mikey. “Aw. Thanks, boo.”
Mikey snorted and dropped all the lights on Josh before going to grab garland
so he could decorate all the baseboards. At first, Ryan had thought it was a
really pretty, original, and cute idea. Then he remembered that it was Mikey’s
turn to wash the floor and baseboards. He was covering them up so he wouldn’t
have to do his job.
“You guys are really big parts of each others’ lives, and so was sex,” Mikey
continued. “Both of you were a rock for the other person when there was no one
else—”
“Even though we tried,” Frank cut in with a grumble.
“And that can’t just be swept under the rug like a bad habit,” Mikey continued,
cutting his eyes at Frank. “Love is love, sex is sex, and sometimes they come
together without actually being intertwined.” Mikey shrugged. “You two are good
for each other. You shouldn’t ignore what you shared, and I’m glad that you
didn’t.”
“You’re coming to LA, right?” Ryan asked Josh. He’d asked this several times,
and Josh always avoided answering.
“I don’t know,” the other man sighed. “Tyler and Jenna? Their business is
really growing here. I just don’t know if they’d be able to come with.”
Ryan ducked his head and nodded.
“Ryan!” Ray called out. “They’re only two hours from the airport. It’s gonna
take us at least an hour and a half. We should go soon.”
Ryan meant to nod and put on his shoes, but he froze when he caught sight of
his reflection. “Oh god…” He looked in horror at his ragged, thin jeans, and
the absolutely shitty t-shirt he was wearing. It probably wasn’t even Ryan’s t-
shirt. He figured it was Ray’s, because Ryan had never been to the Redwood
National Park. Ryan couldn’t even pronounce “sequoioideae.”
“What’s wrong?” Josh asked with a questioning smirk. “Everything okay?”
“Do you see what I’m wearing?” Ryan choked out, pulling at the hem of whoever’s
shirt this was. “Jesus, what is this? Whose is this?”
“That’s mine,” Mikey said. “Bad news, though. I’ve definitely been fucked in
that more than once.”
Ryan gagged and tore the shirt off. “I need something else to wear.”
“Are you kidding?” Frank asked. “Why the fuck do you care? They’re just
clothes.”
“Brendon has never seen me outside of whatever clothes he gave me in the
dreams, and it’s never changed,” Ryan told him in a rush. He was mentally
running through all the clothes in his closet, and couldn’t settle on anything
worthwhile.
“Why not the Lucifer jacket?” Josh suggested.
“He was raised as a strict Mormon,” Frank said. “I doubt showing up in a jacket
with Lucifer’s name on the back in a rainbow will go over well.”
“He has a point,” Mikey giggled. He held out his hand for Ryan to take. “C’mon,
Ry. I’ll get you all dressed up, yeah? We’ll steal some shit from Gee’s closet,
get you all cute and grungy and maybe put on some eyeliner, and mess up your
hair.” Mikey hummed to himself as he reached out, already fiddling with Ryan’s
hair. “We’re gonna make you so cute.”
“He’s already cute,” Josh said with a stupid smirk on his face.
Ryan flipped him off and pulled Mikey into the back to get this over with.
Mikey pulled Ryan into Gerard and Frank’s room. Ryan greeted Gerard, but the
man was bent over his drawing desk, scribbling away furiously with headphones
in his ear, music pounding. Ryan hoped that whatever he was doing was going to
turn out well. When Gerard’s ideas didn’t translate to paper, he was known to
get very moody. Ryan did not want Brendon to meet a moody Gerard.
Mikey threw open the closet doors and faltered. “I forgot my brother has the
fashion sense of a dead horse,” he sighed. “Jesus, when was the last time he
washed this?” Mikey pulled a black hoodie from the floor and scrunched his
nose. “Oh god, are those…?” Mikey tossed the jacket at his brother’s back. It
landed on Gerard’s shoulders, but Gerard didn’t even flinch. “You’re
disgusting, Gee!”
Ryan did not want to know.
“Oh, this is cute,” Mikey said, pulling out a flat, black varsity jacket that
had a sewn-on symbol on the shoulder and the chest lapel. It was a pill? Or
something, and it was red. Ryan kinda liked it. He hadn’t seen Gerard create
designs and shit for his outfits since his D&D group back in high school.
“Okay, wear this, “ Mikey ordered, pushing it into Ryan’s chest.
“What else do we got?” Mikey asked himself, pushing through the clothes. His
lips were pursed in concentration, and Ryan began to wonder why Mikey hadn’t
joined the fashion industry. He sure had the hair and body for it. “Oh, Jesus,
yes,” Mikey giggled, before holding out a pair of distressed jeans that Gerard
had probably made years ago, though Ryan couldn’t recall them, and they looked
really small, especially for Gerard, who had been noticeably heavier back then.
“These used to be mine.” Oh, that made sense— kinda. Ryan was confused as to
why Gerard had kept Mikey’s pants. “They would be fucking adorable on you, Ry.
And, and this shirt.” Mikey held out a v-neck that was plain black.
Ryan frowned. “Am I goth enough for you?”
Mikey snorted. “Just get fucking dressed. And don’t bother wearing a belt with
those pants, they’re obviously gonna be skinny enough for you.”
Ryan nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured, actually feeling sincere, even though he’d
been acting annoyed just a few moments before. “I, uh… Thank you.” He held the
clothes close to his body, feeling oddly vulnerable. “Just, Brendon’s coming
and i-it feels like everything is going to change in a really big way, and I-
I’m scared.”
“Hey, don’t be scared,” Mikey said, going the extra mile and hugging Ryan
because he could, and he was that type of person. Mikey pulled away, and said,
“no matter what happens, we’re with you. That’s it, yeah? Family doesn’t
abandon family. Especially when it’s our awesome, makeshift family.”
Ryan nodded and tried to stop his hands from shaking. “I just, I-I can’t
believe that this is happening, you know?” He smiled shakily. “I waited so long
for this to happen. I worked so hard. I-I went through hell, withstood more
pain and sadness than I ever thought I could.” He ducked his head, shuffling
forward and resting his forehead on Mikey’s shoulder. Ryan wasn’t usually one
to seek out comfort, especially the physical kind, so Mikey didn’t hesitated in
wrapping his arms around Ryan.
“I don’t even know how I’m alive,” he murmured. “Jesus, on top of my dad, my
mom, Spencer, trying to kill myself twice.” He chuckled brokenly.
“Statistically, the second attempt is the one that works, because the kid faced
death at their own hands and realized that the really wished they hadn’t
survived the first time.”
Mikey was very quiet for a long moment. “… Second?”
Ryan froze.
“What do you mean my second?” Mikey asked in a dangerously low tone.
“I didn’t say second,” Ryan lied weakly.
“You did,” Mikey said. “You, you fucking did, jesus.”
Mikey pulled away had went to his brother’s desk. He nudged Gerard so sharply
it looked painful. Gerard jumped and whipped around to face Mikey, opening his
mouth to yell at him as he pulled the earbuds out.
“Ryan tried to kill himself before that night,” Mikey said before Gerard could
speak, and that was all Mikey had to say.
Gerard looked between Mikey and Ryan like he couldn’t believe it, and he
probably didn’t want to believe it. Ryan sat on the bed and waited to be torn
apart. He couldn’t believe he’d let that slip out, fuck. Ryan hadn’t even
thought about it. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t told a single person, hadn’t
mentioned it to a single fucking soul, and suddenly Ryan lets it slip out in
casual conversation, two hours before Brendon comes home? Ryan didn't make
these kind of mistakes, and he didn’t have the time to fix them if he did.
“Is that true, Ryan?” Gerard finally asked, his voice sounding tiny and almost
scared in the stillness of the bedroom.
Ryan just shrugged. Gerard sat on the bed beside him and put an arm around
Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan was a little surprised. He’d expected to be met with
harsh words and frustration, disappointment, and maybe even some anger? He was
a bit shocked to find none of that.
“Why does it matter?”
Gerard pursed his lips. “… Once is a mistake. Twice is the beginning of a
habit. I just… We. We just have to make sure this isn’t going to become a
thing, or that is isn’t hinting towards a darker problem. You understand that,
right?  You probably understand it better than any of us. If there’s more to
this, if this means that you’ve got an actual, deep problem manifested
somewhere in your mind, we have to fix this before Brendon can be brought down
with you.”
Ryan flinched a bit when he realized Gerard was right. Third time being the
charm was a rule of thumb in his psych classes. One attempt was too much, and
two was the makings of a final, successful attempt.
“Why did you do it?” Gerard asked gently.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, fuck them up real good,” Ryan murmured. “That’s, uh.
That was something my dad told me once. And I just…” He shrugged. “Out of
everything he’d ever told me, that was the only thing I took to heart, because
it wasn’t really fucked up or anything, you know? He basically told me to go
down swinging, and I kinda liked it, because he wasn’t telling me that I was a
piece of shit or anything. He just told me to keep fighting to the end of it.”
“I don’t understand why that was something that drove you to suicide,” Gerard
said, sounding a bit confused. Mikey sat on the floor in front of Ryan, resting
his head on his hands, looking forlorn.
“It, uh, it made sense in my head.” Ryan sighed and mimicked Mikey’s pose.
“Just… I didn’t like myself.” He shrugged again. “That’s it. I didn’t like
myself at all. My dad hit me enough to the point where self harm was redundant,
so I figured I’d just skip right to the good shit and get it over with. My dad
would’ve been happy for me to have died. Spencer was into Linda, and Pete was
just so obsessed with Patrick, you were busy with Frank…” He shook his head. “I
was very lonely. And I’d promised to wait until I was twenty-one, but… One
night, it was just too much.”
“A-are you saying you were friends with me when that happened?” Gerard asked
shakily.
Ryan looked to Gerard and grimaced when he saw how upset he looked. “It was the
night after your dream with Frank,” he explained. “You, you were so happy, and
I, I-I wasn’t. And that was it.”
Gerard was shaking in a little, and Ryan felt a little like shit.
“I’m so sorry,” Gerard whimpered. “I-I’m the shittiest person alive.” Gerard
pulled his hand from Ryan and dug his fingernails into the sheets. “You, you
fucking tried to kill yourself and I didn’t even notice.”
“No one noticed,” Ryan said quickly, struggling to find a way to alleviate
Gerard’s guilt. “Not even Spencer. It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t anyone’s
fault. Just mine, yeah? And maybe my dad’s.” He sighed. “It was just a shitty
situation that didn’t end well for anyone, okay?”
“How’d you do it?” Mikey asked hollowly.
“That’s not appropriate,” Gerard told his brother.
“I wanna know,” Mikey huffed. “Who fucking cares if it’s morbid, Ryan obviously
doesn’t see it as very important, otherwise, he would’ve told us.” Ryan kinda
deserved that. “How did you do it, Ryan?”
Ryan paused. “I, uh… I crashed my dad’s car into a tree.”
Gerard and Mikey both looked very confused.
“I feel like I would’ve noticed the bruises and broken bones if you’d crashed a
fucking car, Ry,” Gerard said, looking like he felt a bit better for not
noticing.
Ryan actually smiled a bit. “I crashed it into a tree. Knocked my head on the
steering wheel, covered it with my bangs the next day.” He shrugged. “I mean,
my dad didn’t even notice, and his car was totaled. I blamed it on some
neighbor kid that Dad was already pissed at, and got off with only a punch. It
turned out pretty well for a failed suicide attempt.”
“This is so fucking dark,” Mikey said with a hint of a grin.
Ryan grinned back. “Dark times for dark people. I think.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Gerard told him softly.
“Me too,” Ryan said. “And, uh, c-could we keep this just between us?”
“You want us to lie?” Mikey asked with a critical brow raised.
“Not lie,” Ryan replied with a grimace. “Just, I mean… Don’t advertise it. If
it comes up and I’m asked, to my face, I-I’ll tell the truth. But I don’t want
you guys to go around and wave it on a banner and shit.”
“Understandable,” Gerard said before Mikey could come in with a snarky
response. “Just, we’re adults, you know? We made it past all that shit. We’re
supposed to be okay now. We’re supposed to have made it and keep making it.” He
smiled and Ryan didn’t like it. “You’re not a kid anymore. Hard part’s over.”
“Are you kidding?” Mikey asked, looking a bit upset.
Ryan was even more upset. “That’s fucked up, Gee,” he said in a low, patient
voice, trying to keep his calm. He was already everywhere with the fear of
being caught— he couldn’t stand listening to this. “That’s not how this works.”
Gerard looked genuinely confused. “What?”
“The world preaches and sings and cries out for the teens who see their lives
as so hard, but once they hit eighteen, everyone just stops giving a shit,”
Ryan almost growled. “It’s wrong. Why the fuck are fucking teenagers more
important than adults? Why does age make you more important? It’s fucked up,
and it pisses me off.”
“I-I don’t understand,” Gerard murmured.
“Why does the same person matter more when they’re in high school?” Mikey asked
with a scowl that wasn’t really directed at anyone.
“Why do we only care about the kids who usually have parents who will medicate
them?” Ryan asked. “We jus fucking abandon the adults, like they don’t mean
shit, like they should be okay when the only change that’s been made is the
distance of time on their driver’s license. But it’s harder when you’re older…
You gotta pay bills, and you can’t afford your medication. No band is gonna
tell you to be strong from the stage because you’re not the age group they’re
addressing. It’s just…”
“It’s fucked up,” Mikey huffed. “Why am I less deserving of support just
because I’m older?”
“You’re, you’re not,” Gerard said weakly. “Just…”
“You can’t deny that it’s a thing,” Ryan sighed.
Gerard winced. “… I-I can’t.”
“The world is just looking for the best time to stop caring,” Ryan told him.
“It has nothing to do with the kids, and everything to do with the spectators.
Adults want to kill themselves too. I almost think it’s sadder. Teenagers,
they’re seeing the world as too scary to keep going. They just need to be
encouraged and reassured. But when an adult kills themselves…” He shrugged.
“They tried. They tried and tried and tried, but in the end, they found it was
too much. That’s so much more tragic to me.”
Gerard nodded solemnly.
“I can’t blame them,” Ryan continued. “It’s hard. Harder than anyone ever told
me it would be.”
“You better not go for a third time,” Mikey told him firmly. “If you try to
leave us for the third time, I’m gonna punch you in the dick and cry and shit.
And then I’m gonna tie you to a fucking bed and feed you macaroni with a spoon
and make you stay there forever.”
“That didn’t take the sexy turn I was hoping for,” Ryan responded dryly.
“You fucking perv,” Mikey scoffed. “You’re a slut or something. Brendon, Josh,
and now me? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m just so entranced with your bass-playing fingers,” Ryan said in monotone.
Mikey laughed and shoved Ryan because he wanted to or something. “Look at how
sexy he is,” Mikey said.
“I haven’t even changed yet,” Ryan reminded him. He held up the clothes Mikey
had handed to him from a while ago, wondering how Mikey was so spaced out that
he hadn’t even noticed Ryan hadn’t changed.
Mikey snorted. “Strip for me, baby,” he teased.
“You’re making him wear that?” Gerard asked with a frown. “That’s so dreary!
There’s not enough color. Give me a moment.” Gerard stood and went to his
closet, navigating it much more successfully than Mikey had. He pulled out a
black and white striped shirt that would hang lose around Ryan’s shoulders,
because the neck gap was so fucking wide it was almost obscene.
“This,” Gerard said, holding it out to Ryan.
Ryan just sighed and took it. He only trusted them because he was no better at
dressing himself.
. . .
Ryan got into Ray’s car before Ray did. He was dressed and filled to the brim
with anxiety, his hands shaking and his knees bouncing. It hadn’t sunk in yet.
Not really. He couldn’t really think past the haze of panic and it was almost
awful, honestly. It didn’t feel good. Ryan thought that this was supposed to
feel good, but it really didn’t. He just felt nervous and stretched too far
apart to breathe. He wanted this over with, and that was almost disappointing.
Ryan wished he could be happy about this. He wished he could be excited and
looking forward to it, but right now, he just felt scared.
Ray slid into the driver’s seat and sent Ryan and understanding smile. “I’m
guessing you’re really nervous,” he said softly. He reached over and put an
hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Anyone would have nerves. Especially over
something like this.”
Ryan nodded and remain silent.
“I mean, at least it’s happening, right?” Ray continued, still smiling. “At
least you’ve got this. We never thought this would happen, Ry. I mean, we did,
but I know you didn’t.” He began to rub Ryan’s shoulder. “It’s scary. But it’s
also a good thing. It’s the best case scenario we were too scared to believe
in. And I know you’re scared, but god, I’m so happy for you.”
Ryan nodded again.
“And, a-and no matter what happens, we’re here, okay?” Ray’s smile became
something a bit sadder, though it wasn’t actually sad. Ryan just didn't have
the word for it. “Even if this all goes south, I’m here. And so is Mikey and
Gee and Frank. Josh, too. Pete and just everyone, okay? We’re all here. And
we’re always gonna be here, okay? Nothing could take us apart. Believe me.”
Ryan nodded for the third time. His hands weren’t shaking anymore.
“We love you, Ry,” he said softly. “We love you a lot. You’re family, and we
know you don’t believe us when we say it, so we’ll keep saying it until you
do.”
Ryan sighed and finally spoke. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to be what Brendon
needs,” he confessed. “I can try. I will try. I’ll try as hard as I fucking
can, you know? But I don’t know if I’ll know what that is. I don’t know if I’ll
even be able to do it. What if I can’t be what he needs? What if I can’t do
it?”
Ray frowned. “I, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just, I’m not following.”
Ryan sighed, frustrated with himself. “What if, like… He needs to be someone
I’m not. Or that I can’t be? What if he needs to be strong in ways that I can’t
be? Like, like being firm. Or saying no to him and shit. What if he needs me to
make decisions I’m not ready to make? About my future, or even his future? What
if he doesn’t even want the things that I do?”
Ray still looked very lost.
Ryan sat up and turned in his seat to face Ray. “Okay, so, say that I’ve got
Brendon with me, and he wants to be somewhere isolated? Somewhere with no
resources? Or worse— what if he asks me to leave you guys?”
Ray hesitated. “Then… Then you leave?” He looked like the very idea made him
sick. Ryan didn’t feel much better.
“I’m not leaving any of you,” he said. “Just like I wouldn’t leave Brendon. But
like you said, all of you are my family, too.” Even though he usually didn’t
believe it either. “I’m not able to give myself to that idea, to leaving people
in the dust for someone else. You can’t just belittle everything they did. You
can’t just forget that stuff. You can’t throw someone away like that. Not after
all they’ve done for you. not after all you’ve survived. It doesn’t matter what
the next person means, whoever it is should never belittle the next. Should
never mean anything less.”
Ray smiled again. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “I don’t want to lose
you, really. I don’t think any of us want to lose anybody.”
“Not again,” Ryan murmured.
Ray nodded. “… I’m gonna start the car,” he said. “My dad’s gonna be there in
an hour or more.” Ray grinned to himself. “He loves that old truck, you know?
And he’s happy to have taken it on a nice, long drive. He doesn’t get to do
that often enough. Hardly ever, really.”
“Has he said anything about Brendon?” Ryan had to ask. He hadn’t seen Brendon
in what was probably forty-eight hours.
Ray shrugged. “I haven’t… I mean, all he’s said is that Brendon doesn’t talk
much. Just sits in the seat with his knees to his chest. That’s it. He’s really
nervous, apparently.” Ray smirked wryly. “Probably just as nervous as you are.”
Ryan winced. “I-I hope he’s okay.”
“I’m sure he is,” Ray assured him as he finally started the car and pulled out
of the driveway. “My dad’s a capable guy, and he’s really smart. He knows how
to handle kids like Brendon. He wouldn’t hurt him, and he would definitely be
willing to help him in any way that he could.”
Ryan bit his lip and nodded. “I just want him to feel okay, you know? I want
him happy. Finally happy.”
Ray smiled wider and nodded. “You can do that. I know you can, Ry, because I
know you. You’re a sweet kid, and a really great guy, and you’re smart and kind
and just really great. Brendon’s gonna love you.” Ray paused. “Not that he
doesn’t already love you, but, like, he will love you more because he’s got a
real home and support and people who care about him. Does that make sense?”
Ryan cracked a grin and hummed. “Sounds perfect,” he said.
“Good,” Ray said. “Because you’re perfect for him.” Ray turned on the radio and
one of Pete’s new songs, Bang the Doldrums. Mikey had laughed when he first
heard it, and everyone came to a consensus that it was about when Mikey and
Pete had fucked. Pete had affirmed it and now Ryan couldn’t help but grin
whenever he heard the song. “It’ll be okay, Ry.”
Ryan was quiet for the rest of the ride to the airport.
. . .
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed as he tried to look through the crowd. It was late, so
fucking late, but O’Hare International still managed to have a fucking shit ton
of people arriving and departing, even at one in the fucking morning, or
whenever it was. This airport was always one of three— crowded, frozen, or
flood. It was frozen and crowded and Ryan wished Gerard hadn’t gotten him such
a flimsy shirt. The black jacket helped, but only barely.
Ray was standing on the foot stand of his car, squinting into the crowd and the
long line of cars. “See them?” he asked Ryan. He’d gotten a text from his
father saying that he’d arrived.
Ryan was standing beside the car and just shook his head uselessly. There were
too many fucking people. He couldn’t see Brendon or Mr. Ortiz, he could only
see endless nameless faces and the back of heads that he would never see again.
He was becoming angry. He was becoming very irrationally angry, and he just
wanted to find Brendon, that was it. The nerves in the car had nearly driven
him mad, but now, with all of this chaos, his head was finally clear. He’d
waited more than six years for this. Six fucking years to have this, this one
fucking moment.
He’d spent six years looking for his soulmate, and now they were less than a
mile apart, but Ryan was no closer to finding him, not any fucking closer. Ryan
wish he had a bullhorn or a fucking flame flower, something to part this sea of
endless people.
“I can’t fucking find him!” Ryan cried out, a hysterical edge to his voice. “I
can’t find him, Ray!”
Ryan was startled when he felt a hand on his back. He flinched and turned
around, hand curled into a fist, ready to clock some fucking stranger in the
face for fucking touching him, today, of all fucking days. But it was Ray, and
Ryan instantly relaxed, though it was more like he slumped into Ray than
relaxed.
“I can’t find him,” he choked out, coming close to losing it again. “I can’t
find him, Ray, I-I still can’t find him.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Ray murmured, rubbing Ryan’s back to soothe him. “Ryan, it’s
okay… They’re probably just stuck in traffic or something, okay? You know they
would be here if they could be, right? They would be right in front of us if
they were able. They’re just stuck in traffic or something, Ryan. This doesn't
mean anything.”
Ryan tore into his lower lip and nodded, scanning the crowd, but still seeing
nothing. “Maybe they—”
Ryan cut himself off when he heard a car horn blare, coupled by a violently
shouted insult. Ryan didn’t know why, but he whirled around and looked to the
street full of cars that were passing by to bypass the traffic and get to the
next terminal. He just stared, knowing that there was something he wasn’t
seeing. Another honk sounded, followed by more cursing, and then Ryan saw
Brendon, on his knees, in the middle of the fucking street, staring down an
oncoming bus.
Ryan didn’t hesitate.
He bolted forward, sprinting into traffic, dodging grills and darting between
bumpers. He smacked his hands on a hood of a car that actually tried to hit
him, but didn’t even pause to flip the asshole off. Ryan scrambled to where
Brendon was and grabbed the boy by the shirt, pulling him to the side of the
road.
“What the fuck were you doing?” Ryan gasped, still not processing anything
correctly. All he knew was that Brendon had almost been hit by a fucking car,
jesus.
“I-I saw you,” Brendon said, and holy shit, that was Brendon’s voice. That was
Brendon’s actual voice reaching Ryan’s actual ears, and this was actually
happening.
“Brendon?” Ryan asked breathlessly.
“I saw you across the street and wanted to be next to you,” Brendon continued
in a broken voice, his throat catching on the same emotion Ryan was feeling.
“Just wanted to be next to you,” Brendon choked out, a tear spilling from the
corner of his left eye. “Just… you…”
Ryan began shaking again and he grabbed Brendon, pulling him into his chest,
hugging him so tight that he half-worried of breaking Brendon’s bones. Brendon
sobbed and held on just as tight, fingers knotting in the back of the jacket.
“You’re real,” Brendon whispered into his ear. “You’re s-so real. I-I didn’t
know you could feel this real.” Ryan heard a smile in Brendon’s voice. “I like
it.”
“Fucking realest,” Ryan affirmed brokenly. “I’m real, and so are you. This is
real. This is so fucking real, and nothing and no one is going to be able to
take this away from us. This is happening and it’s gonna keep happening,
because no way in fucking hell or high water am I going to lose you.”
Brendon was crying and shaking with Ryan, but Ryan knew that it wasn’t the
worst cry he’d ever heard spill from Brendon’s lips. Because even while Ryan
was crying too, they weren’t sad. They were fucking happy. They were together
for the first time in their lives, and Ryan couldn’t be any fucking better. For
the first time in a very, very long time, Ryan was actually seeing the sunrise
for the symbol of hope that it was, and allowed himself to look forward to
tomorrow morning, when waking up wouldn’t tear him away from the person he
loved the most.
“I-I missed you,” Brendon whimpered. “Th-th-thank you for coming.”
“Wouldn’t rather be anywhere else,” Ryan murmured.
Brendon just nuzzled into Ryan’s chest, and Ryan didn’t have words for how good
that felt. To have Brendon actually touch him, in the actual, existing, waking
world. Everything felt electric and alive, like his body was laced with
adrenaline, vigor running through his veins.
“Ryan?”
Ryan’s head jolted upwards and he snapped it to his left, seeing Ray standing
there with owlish eyes. He held Brendon closer when he felt the gasp of icy
wind coming from a car passing them at dangerous speeds for a place with
pedestrians so fucking close. Ryan became hyperaware of the danger of the
world. He tensed and readied himself to take a fucking bullet for Brendon if he
had to.
“Hey, Ry,” Ray murmured softly. “Uh, is he okay?”
Ryan nodded, subconsciously pushing his nose into Brendon’s hair. He had never
actually smelled Brendon before. It was weird, and almost creepy, but Ryan
realized that, after six years of dreaming, there were fundamental details
about Brendon that he was completely blind to.
He kinda wanted to learn fucking everything now.
“Think you’re read to head home?” Ray asked. “It’s pretty cold out here, and
Brendon isn’t wearing much…”
Ryan frowned and tried to take stock of what Brendon was wearing through touch
alone. He could feel the ridges of Brendon’s ribs, so it had to be flimsy.
Jesus, if Brendon had only been in a t-shirt this whole time, Ryan was going to
lose his shit.
“What about your dad?” he had to ask.
“We’re gonna get lunch tomorrow,” Ray told him dismissively. “Let’s get Brendon
home.”
“Home?” Brendon repeated in a tiny voice.
“Yeah,” Ryan affirmed. “Home.”
He felt Brendon shudder. Ryan pulled away just a bit and wrestled the jacket
off of his torso, then laid it over Brendon’s shoulders. Brendon didn’t even
protest, and grabbed the hems to pull them tighter around his chest.
Ryan grimaced when he saw the red tinge of Brendon’s frozen fingertips and
nodded to Ray. “Let’s get him home.”
. . .
Ryan climbed into the back with Brendon and had sat/lain with him. He’d had his
legs up on the seat while Brendon had settled between them. Ryan was internally
grateful for Brendon’s easiness around Ryan. Though they’d never met in person,
Brendon hadn’t hesitated in initiating the physical contact Ryan so desperately
needed. Ryan was happy to give what Brendon needed, so fucking happy.
Ray didn’t talk much, and neither did Ryan or Brendon. It was probably awkward
for Ray where it wasn’t for Ryan, and he knew he would feel guilty for that
later, but right now he couldn’t think past the soft touch of Brendon’s hair on
his fingertips and the way his skin felt five times more volatile than it ever
had before.
Ryan kinda felt like his whole world was ending and beginning at the same time.
When Ray pulled up in front of the house, Brendon was clinging to Ryan so
tightly that it was starting to hurt, and Ryan loved it. He could feel Brendon,
actually fucking feel him, and he was wide awake. Ryan was never going to stop
loving this.
“Is this it?” Brendon asked in a tiny voice. Ryan looked down to see Brendon
peering up over Ryan’s shoulder. He knew what the house had to look like
compared to Brendon’s old house. Ryan imagined Brendon’s childhood hell to be
dark and rickety, made entirely of old wood and dirty glass pane.
This home was nice. Ryan’s home was nice. It was pretty clean and had nice
color to the walls and the shutters. Two stories and a lean front yard, though
there was a lot of snow everywhere and the driveway was really frozen. The
clouds were overcast, making the night even darker, and everything was horribly
dreary, but light was spilling from the windows and there were strings of
lights all across the bottom of the roof and Ryan was kinda happy everyone was
awake. It would mean that the house would be warm and alive and definitely the
first experience Ryan wanted Brendon to have in his new home.
“Let’s brave the frigid cold of Chicago during Christmas,” Ray said as he put
the car in park and turned over the engine.
“Christmas?” Brendon repeated shyly. “It’s Christmas?”
Ryan hummed and nodded. “Your first real Christmas,” he said. “We got a tree
and everything. Lights and stuff. There are even some gifts under the tree for
you.”
Brendon blinked, looking absolutely blindsided by this. Ryan grinned, giddy
with success over putting that smile on Brendon’s face. “I, I have presents?”
Brendon asked, voice trembling, like he was scared to get his hopes up if the
answer wasn’t yes.
“You have presents,” Ryan told him softly. “C’mon. Why don’t we go inside where
you can meet everyone?”
Brendon hesitated, then sat up and crawled out of his seat. Ray opened the
passenger door for Brendon to leave the car. Brendon hesitated when he saw Ray,
before slowly saying a name. “R-Ray?”
Ray grinned and nodded. “Ray Toro,” he affirmed. “I’m, uh, I’m the afro-guy.”
“You’re Mikey’s husband?” Brendon asked.
Ray smiled wider. “Almost.”
Ryan glanced to Ray, trying to place when they had last brought up the wedding.
It was like everything had been put to a halt when Ryan had tried to kill
himself. Ryan grimaced and felt more like shit than usual. But then Brendon
actually smiled back and Ray and made everything easier to stomach.
“I-I hope you and him g-get married,” Brendon told Ray.
Ray smiled even fucking wider, jesus, Ryan loved Brendon. “I hope we do too.”
Brendon slid out of the car and faced the house, pulling the jacket tighter
around himself. “I-I’d like to go inside.
Ryan nodded and put his hand in the small of Brendon’s back. He couldn’t stop
touching the other boy. He would never stop touching him. Ryan led Brendon into
the house, and Brendon was so close to Ryan that he could feel Brendon’s hip
against his own. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
Ray opened the front door and Gerard was suddenly yelling.
“Is that them?!” Gerard shouted from what was probably the kitchen.
Ryan was so fucking relieved when Brendon didn’t flinch or look afraid. It
fact, Brendon actually grinned.
“Who’s that?” Brendon asked.
“Gerard,” Ryan replied with his own smile.
Brendon grinned wider. “I-I like him.”
“Me too,” Ryan agreed softly.
Brendon bit his lip, before actually pulling Ryan into the house. He heard
Brendon gasp softly when the boy took in all the lights, and Ryan was impressed
too. Garland and lights were littered everywhere in artful chaos. There were a
few nutcrackers and there was a loop of a crackling fireplace on the TV.
Mikey waved from the sofa, cheeks flushed with a glass of eggnog in his hand.
“Who’s that?” Brendon asked.
“Mikey Way,” Ryan responded.
Brendon grinned again. “He’s the one who plays bass, right?”
Ryan nodded.
Brendon visibly hesitated, but stepped forward. He ran his hand over the sofa,
marveling in the softness. Ryan watched him with swelling hope, and Brendon
climbed onto the sofa. He sat with his knees to his chest and watched Mikey
with unhidden interest. “You’re marrying Ray?”
Mikey smirked and winked. “One day.”
Brendon nodded. “I remember hearing about you… You used to do hair. You knew
Ryan for a long time. You went to California, a-and you’re his best friend.”
Mikey glanced to Ryan, before grinning and nodding to Brendon. “That’s me,
kiddo.”
Brendon smiled again. “I got it right,” he told Ryan.
Ryan grinned. “You did, baby. Good job.”
Brendon giggled, and jesus, that was a beautiful sound.
“He’s so cute, Ry, way cuter than I thought he’d be,” Mikey said.
“He is really cute,” Ray agreed, smiling at Brendon. Brendon didn’t seem
unfazed. In fact, he looked like he really enjoyed being looked at. Ryan had
kinda assumed this would be the case. Brendon loved the attention.
“This is Brendon?” Gerard asked as he came into the room. He had a cup of hot
chocolate in each hand and handed one to Brendon, who took it without
hesitation.
“That’s Gerard, right?” Brendon asked Mikey.
Mikey smirked and nodded. “That’s my big bro, Gee-rard Way. He’s an artist.”
“I write comics,” Gerard corrected.
“That’s really cool,” Brendon said.
Gerard beamed with pride. Frank barreled in and jumped on Gerard’s back. Gerard
yelped and the hot chocolate sloshed from the cup onto the floor. Ryan darted
forward and got between Brendon and the hot drink, just in case some tried to
splash up and hit Brendon. But it was okay. Nothing got on Brendon, so
everything was fucking a-okay.
“Frank!” Brendon exclaimed, eyes lighting up. Jesus, Ryan was so proud of him.
“You’re, you’re Frank, right?”
Frank gaped. “Oh my god, you are the most adorable thing I have ever seen.”
Frank looked to Ryan. “Can I pinch his cheeks? Or kiss his face? Or just kiss
him?” Frank looked back to Brendon. “Where the hell has Ryan been hiding you?
And how dare he hide someone as perfect as you from the rest of the world.
Horrifically unfair.”
Brendon smiled with a faint blush on his cheek. But then his eyelids fluttered
before falling shut. Ryan’s heart went crazy as he watched Brendon yawned, oh
my god, so fucking cute.
“I’m gonna get him to bed,” Ryan said. He didn’t want to overload the kid.
Brendon took a drink of the cocoa and giggled. “This tastes good,” he murmured
sleepily. “What’s in it?”
“Chocolate and hot milk,” Gerard supplied, watching Brendon with a parental
fondness in his eyes.
Brendon squirmed happily and drank more. Ryan was happy to see that he hadn’t
burnt his tongue. He was guessing the drink was more of a warm chocolate than
anything. “Can I have some more tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Ryan promised. “But don’t you want to get some sleep?”
Brendon hesitated. “Will you be there?”
Ryan paused, because he didn’t know.
“Even if he isn’t, he’ll be right next to you,” Mikey said. “That’s the great
thing about falling asleep next to the person you love. They’re gonna be there
when you wake up.”
This was going a lot better than Ryan had thought. He’d expected Brendon to
come here, shaking with instinctual fear and filled with paranoia towards
everyone and everything, especially adults, which were all of Ryan’s friends,
even if they didn’t act the part. But here Brendon was, taking the initiative,
sitting on the couch with Mikey and already smiling.
“Sleep?” Ryan asked softly. Because he was dead fucking tired, and he knew
Brendon had to be as well.
Brendon bit his lip again and nodded. He stood from the couch and shuffled over
to Ryan’s side, waving shyly to the others. All of them waved back, save Frank,
was was too busy playing with Gerard’s hair to notice anything.
“I like them,” Brendon whispered to Ryan.
Ryan smiled and nodded. “I like them too,” he whispered back.
“Is tomorrow morning Christmas?”
Ryan wasn’t really going to be a stickler. Technically, it was already
Christmas. He could hear everyone behind him moving around, talking to each
other sleepily, and knew that they’d all be going to bed as well. He figured
they’d all wake up in a few hours and do presents and shit.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” he affirmed anyways.
Brendon giggled. “I’m excited.”
Ryan looked down at the kid, just staring at him, taking in every fine detail
with absolute affection and love. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe
he finally had Brendon, finally had him in his house, at his side, in his arms.
This was the fairytale ending Ryan swore he’d never believed in from the start.
“Ryan?”
Ryan blinked and broke himself from his stupor. Brendon was looking up at him,
chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. Then, Brendon went up on his toes and
kissed the corner of Ryan’s mouth.
“I love you,” he told Ryan quietly. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
Ryan just grinned. “Like I ever could.”
Brendon matched his smile. “Soulmates?”
Soulmates.
Chapter End Notes
     so, i don't know if you noticed, but this chapter was about 1000
     words more than usual.
     the next chapter is gonna be even longer. it will probably take more
     than a week to upload, but i promise it'll be worth it. it's a big
     ending for a big story, and i'm excited to bring together all the
     pieces for you guys.
     thanks :)
***** Phosphene (I Woke Up to the Morning Light, Knowing I Never Gave Up the
Fight) *****
Chapter Summary
     to the end
Chapter Notes
     i fucking refuse to use the word “manhood”
     also, this is not proofread simply because it's over 30k and i wanted
     it to get it out to y'all
     hope it meets your standards
     reminder: there will be one last chapter; an alternate ending where
     Ryan gets with Josh instead of Brendon
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Ryan woke up just before everyone else.
Brendon was crying out softly in his sleep and shaking.
Ryan had expected this, he really had, but fuck, he’d hoped that it would have
taken Brendon’s mind longer to fall apart. Still, it made sense. Seeing and
going through all the shit Brendon had meant that it wouldn’t sneak up on him.
He’d fall into the deep end at the very beginning of it all, and Ryan fucking
knew this would happen, jesus.
It took Ryan a long moment to actually act. He just stared at Brendon, still in
disbelief that the boy was in his bed rather than his head, until Brendon
gasped and it sounded more good than bad, so Ryan reached out and brushed his
hand across Brendon’s face. He remembered learning that you shouldn’t wake
people some certain types of nightmares. Ryan hoped that this wasn’t one of the
more serious types yet.
“Baby,” Ryan murmured, caressing Brendon’s cheek, thanking whatever god was
there that he could actually touch him. “B, wake up…”
Brendon choked on a noise of fear before his eyes shot open and sucked in a
gush of air. His lower lip was trembling and his eyes darted around the dark
room, obviously off balance and unable to recognize his surroundings. But then
he looked to his left, to where Ryan was laying beside him, and almost
instantly calmed.
“… For real?” Brendon whispered shakily.
Ryan nodded. “You’re safe, baby,” he told Brendon. “You’re with me.”
Brendon nodded and reached out with a trembling hand to hold Ryan’s own hand.
Brendon ran his thumb over Ryan’s fingers and smiled a bit. “I-I dreamed about
my father,” he said after a moment. “He, he was…”
Ryan waited. “He was what, baby?”
“He, he was hitting you,” Brendon choked out. “Hurting you. He had a gun, a-and
there was blood everywhere. Your, your arms and legs were broken, and you
weren’t making any noise, and you woke me up the m-moment I realized you
weren’t breathing, either…”
Ryan grimaced and ran his fingers through Brendon’s hair. “I’m alive, baby.
Everything’s okay.”
Brendon sniffled, and Ryan’s heart sunk when he realized he was crying. But
jesus, this was still better than being state-lines away. Brendon was, also,
still crying, though, and that felt fucking awful.
“B, baby, it’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s really okay. I’m here, alright? Don’t
cry, baby.”
Brendon squirmed closer to Ryan between the sheets. “What’s kissing like?” he
asked.
Ryan’s brain sort of went kaput and he fumbled for some sort of response.
“What?”
“Kissing,” Brendon repeated. “I mean, I-I know we’ve kissed. In our heads.
Like, yeah, that, that’s okay, it was awesome. It was really awesome.” Brendon
smiled shyly and Ryan fell in love all over again. “Just, uh… I-is it different
when you’re awake?”
Ryan hesitated. “I-I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “I’ve never kissed you
outside of my head. I don’t know if it’ll be different, but I know that it’ll
be good.” He grinned bit. “Nothing with you could be anything but good. You’re
just, you’re good. You’re the light of my life and the reason I keep going, B.
I love you. I want to kiss you and stuff and hug you and hold your hand and
take you places and show you the world and show you some amazing things. In
fact, I’m going to do that. I’m going to show you everything. And I’m gonna
kiss you and be cute with you and, like, figure out this existence with you by
my side. That’s all I could want.”
It was too dark to be certain, but Ryan was pretty sure Brendon had blushed.
Ryan meant to say more, but then there was a knock on his door. He snapped his
eyes to the door and paused.
“Ry, Brendon, wake up!” Frank giggled from behind the wood. “It’s fucking
Christmas, and Santa came!”
Ryan sat up with a snort and kissed the top of Brendon’s head before sliding
out of bed. He yawned and stretched, pointing his fingers to the ceiling and
letting the sleepiness melt from his bones. He was shirtless, as always for
bed, and the cold air made him shiver. Ryan grabbed one of Josh’s hoodies that
Josh had left behind and pulled it on, enjoying how frumpy the large jacket was
on his lithe structure. It made him feel like he was walking in a blanket that
had a convenient zipper. He turned around to see that Brendon was staring at
him.
“What?” he asked softly, a bit confused by the expression on Brendon’s face.
Brendon shrugged. “I-I’ve never seen you without clothes.” Brendon pulled a
pillow into his lap and to his chest. “You’re pretty. You’re really pretty.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re really pretty too, baby. Wanna get up? We’ve got presents
to open.”
Brendon nodded and scrambled out of bed, looking around for something. Ryan
realized that the kid didn’t have any clothes. It actually kinda looked like
what he was wearing was the only thing he’d been allowed to wear his whole
life. Ryan pursed his lips and went to his closest to find something. “Do you
wanna take a shower?” he offered.
Brendon didn’t answer.
Ryan turned around with an old shirt in his hand while he looked for some
sweatpants. “B?”
“I-I’ve never showered,” Brendon mumbled. “Only baths.”
Ryan nodded slowly, taking in the information. “Do you, uh… Do you want a
bath?”
Brendon shook his head. “I wanna shower. I just don’t know how.”
Jesus, this was going to be a thin line.
“Do you…” Ryan swallowed hard. “Do you, maybe, want some help?”
Brendon nodded.
Ryan nodded.
“After presents?” he offered.
Brendon nodded.
Ryan nodded. Then he handed Brendon the shirt and sweatpants. “Wear that for
now,” he said. “We’ll get you some real clothes later.” Ryan wished he’d
thought of clothing before hand. Brendon’s ratty slacks and shirt looked like
they weren’t even from Brendon’s own generation.
“Real clothes?” Brendon repeated. “Like, like what my siblings wear?”
Ryan smiled a bit and nodded. “Just like that, yeah. Only better. Because Mikey
knows all the coolest things to wear and he loves it and shit. He’ll help me
dress you up. It’ll be fun. We’ll go shopping and get you some real fucking
clothes, yeah?”
Brendon grinned and nodded. He shucked off his old shirt and looked around.
“Where should I put this?”
“The fucking garbage,” Ryan said with an air of finality.
Brendon giggled and shuffled over to the trash can, dropping the shirt inside.
He stared at the garment like he was thinking, then turned to Ryan with a wide
smile. “This is it,” he said breathlessly. “This is it, isn’t it? This, this is
what life should feel like. Getting rid of what makes you sad and replacing it
with someone that makes you happy. That’s a good life, right?”
“The best life,” Ryan affirmed.
“I’m excited,” Brendon giggled. “C’mon, I wanna go see the tree again!”
“Don’t you need to finish changing?” Ryan reminded him patiently.
“Oh yeah!” Brendon gasped, before stepping out of his pants thoughtlessly. He
wasn’t fucking wearing underwear or anything. Ryan squeaked and turned around
to face the wall. Regardless of how good this all felt, Brendon was still
sixteen. He was a minor. Ryan couldn’t forget himself in the face of his
excitement. He was the adult. He had to be the responsible one. He was going to
be the responsible one.
But he really wanted to look.
“What’re you doing?” Brendon asked.
Ryan turned around, expecting Brendon to be fully clothed again, but froze when
he saw Brendon was stark naked. And jesus, he was too skinny. Ryan could see
each rib and it made him dizzy with horror. No one should be that emaciated. It
was abusive, and Brendon was fucking abused, jesus.
Brendon was smiling like nothing was wrong, and Ryan’s chest tightened. Even
through all of that shit, Brendon was able to smile like he meant it.
“Just, just giving you some privacy,” Ryan said sadly.
Brendon snorted. “I’m your soulmate, silly. You can look. You know my head.
Might as well get to know my body, right?”
“I don’t think this is a good time for that,” Ryan choked out.
“Why not?”
“Presents!” Ryan blurted out. “And, and people! Christmas!” He laughed and it
was tight and awkward. “C’mon, let’s get some clothes on you so we can so see
everyone else. It’ll be fun, yeah? Your first Christmas with your family.” He
handed Brendon the sweatpants. “Let’s go, baby. You’re gonna love this life.”
Brendon giggled and took the clothes, stepping into them and pulled them up his
hips. “They’re big…”
Ryan swallowed hard, then stepped forward and reached down to knot the string
after pulling it tighter. He could feel the heat radiating off of Brendon’s
body. It was intoxicating. He shuddered and pulled away after a pause, letting
himself enjoy the warmth from Brendon. Then he tossed the shirt on Brendon’s
head and toed on his own slippers, because his toes tended to get really cold,
and nowhere else.
“I-I wanna hear music,” Brendon told Ryan. “Just once, yeah? Not right now. I
wanna have Christmas. But could I maybe hear something after?”
Ryan smiled and nodded. “I’ll think of something. Make sure it’s good.”
Brendon ducked his head, grinning. “Thank you.”
. . .
Brendon’s eyes were wide like a kid’s with every present he opened, grinning
and thanking everyone like it was the first time he’d ever been given a gift.
Ryan expected it was, or at least something close.
Ryan had gotten Brendon a guitar, because he knew Brendon wanted one, he could
just tell. Ryan was also kinda proud of himself for the purchase when he’d seen
the way Brendon had looked at Ryan’s instruments earlier that night.
Mikey had ended up putting some elf hat on Brendon. It was pointy and green and
red and just a little ridiculous. Ryan thought it was the cutest thing ever.
Brendon had giggled and laughed until he’d snorted air through his nose, only
to keep on laughing. Mikey had looked really fucking proud of himself the whole
time, winking at Ryan and almost bragging. Ryan kinda didn’t mind.
Besides, when Brendon had opened his present and seen the Martin D-15, Ryan
knew he’d made his own mark. Ray had gotten Brendon a giant fucking sweater
that had reindeer on it and it was totally ridiculous and Brendon had smiled so
wide when he felt how soft it was and tugged off his t-shirt to pull the
sweater on instead. Ryan had glanced around to see everyones’ reactions when
they saw just how starved Brendon was, and none of them surprised him. Horror
and disgust was the main response. Ryan couldn’t blame them, but Brendon was
still beautiful.
Frank had gotten Brendon a fucking iPod, jesus, and some really fucking good
headphones. There was nothing on it, and Frank had gone into this huge speech
about how you put what you wanted on the phone because that was what showed who
you were as a person and what you were interested in. Ryan didn’t disagree, but
he also didn’t think it was so dramatic and important. Brendon had stared at
the screen like he was from the stone age, and honestly, he probably was,
equivocally. Brendon had probably never even seen a computer before. Which was
great, because Gerard got him a fucking computer. Two, actually
They weren’t cheap, either. They were really, really nice. One was a Macbook
Pro with the CD-drive installed and over two hundred gigabytes of memory, and
then he got him a Mac Mini.
“It’s got Logic on there too,” Gerard said with a proud grin. Over Brendon’s
excited head, Ryan mouthed the question, ‘how much?’ Gerard had just shrugged,
and Ryan really felt kinda bad. He felt even worse when he opened his present
from Gerard and found the same fucking combo. So did Mikey.
“You guys have a band now,” Gerard said for explanation. “You’re gonna need all
the tools, and they’re good computers! They’ll really be able to help, I hope.”
“Oh my god, Gee,” Mikey gasped, getting up and barreling into his brother,
hugging him so hard that Gerard let out this noise of startled pain, though he
didn’t push away, and Mikey wasn’t going to end the hug anytime soon, form the
looks of it. “You’re the best big brother ever!” Mikey laughed. He kissed his
brother’s cheek with a loud smack and Gerard giggled, then tickled his
brothers’ sides. Mikey thrashed around and accidentally kicked over Ray’s
drink. None of them really seemed to care. They were moving out soon anyways,
so whatever.
“My gift to Brendon seems like shit now,” Mikey giggled. “Everyone got him cool
stuff! I just got him a ukulele.”
Brendon perked up. “What’s that?” he asked. “I-I like the name.”
Mikey grinned and handed him the boxed gift. Brendon opened the wrapping paper,
then the box carefully, like he’d done with the guitar. He gasped when he saw
the ukulele, and Ryan was a bit surprised. It was a Luna, but a concert
ukulele, and there was the name “Tiki” along the frets. It was white and pearl
and gorgeously decorated. Ryan was a little in love with it, and his heart
stuttered when Brendon brought the instrument to his lap and strummed. He
didn’t know what he was doing, obviously, but the chord he managed to play
brought a wide smile to Brendon’s lips.
“Thank you,” Brendon told Mikey. “Thank you,” he then told everyone. Brendon
turned a bit to look to Ryan and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you,” Ryan said automatically, because it was the truth.
“We should put on some Christmas music,” Mikey offered.
“No, no, no,” Ryan denied almost frantically. Mikey raised a brow at Ryan, and
Ryan winced. “I-I just want Brendon’s first song to be something that isn’t
dripping with sugarcane and catchy tunes. I want it to have sustenance, you
know? I want it to mean something.”
Mikey slowly smirked. “That’s adorable, Ry-baby.”
“Ry-baby?” Brendon repeated. “What’s that?”
“A nickname,” Ray said.
“A nickname? Like when you call me B?” Brendon looked to Ryan with the same
curiosity that had been filling his eyes since the airport. “Is that what a
nickname is? I feel like I’ve asked you this before, right? You know what I’m
talking about?”
Ryan grinned and nodded. “B is your nickname,” he affirmed.
“And baby,” Brendon giggled.
Ryan blushed a bit and Mikey snickered. “He calls you baby?” Mikey asked
Brendon. “That’s adorable.”
Brendon nodded. “I like it.”
“Oh my god, Mikey!” Gerard suddenly gasped. “We need to do the—!” He cut
himself off, eyes darting around like he felt guilty about something. “We gotta
do the thing!” he hissed. Mikey snorted and rolled his eyes.
“You’re about as subtle as a heart attack,” Mikey groaned as he stood and went
to the kitchen. Gerard followed him.
Frank was grinning like he knew what was going on, and Ray had a poker face
that Ryan wasn’t aware he actually had. Ray usually wore his heart on his
sleeve and his thoughts on his forehead. Ryan was surprised Ray could hide
anything from anyone. It wasn’t a negative trait, and Ryan really liked Ray for
being open with everything, he was just really shocked that Ray could actually
keep his expression under control. Ray obviously knew what they were talking
about. Ray knew fucking everything.
“What’re they talking about?” Brendon asked Ryan.
Ryan shook his head. “No clue.”
Brendon nodded, running his fingers over the soft fabric of the sweater. “I
like your family,” he told Ryan.
“Our family,” Frank corrected thoughtlessly, like it was second nature. Ryan
grinned at the back of Frank’s head as Frank cleaned up the ground around him.
Frank was wearing the Misfits beanie Ryan had gotten him with absolute pride,
and was taking a selfie with it. Ryan could see the image on Frank’s screen and
snickered when he saw Frank was duck-facing, just for shits and giggles.
Mikey comes back with a smug smile on his face. “Hey, Ryan,” he said. “You and
Brendon should come into the dining room.”
Ryan just rolled his eyes, figuring something was set up on the table or
whatever. Brendon took the cue from him and stood with Ryan.
“What is this about?” Brendon asked Ryan quietly. Frank also got up and darted
into the kitchen/dining area. Ray was staying put, but he was watching them
expectantly. Ryan narrowed his eyes suspiciously and put an arm around
Brendon’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, “But it’ll be fine.”
Brendon grinned and nodded. “Can I hold your hands? That’s what couples do. I
wanna hold your hand.”
“Oh my god,” Ray giggled.
Ryan’s heart melted and he moved his arm from around Brendon to hold Brendon’s
hand. “Anything for you,” he said again. He started head towards the dining
area, but right when they got under the arch, Frank was standing in front of
them, snickering. “What the fuck are you doing, Frankie?” Ryan asked with a
frown.
Frank pointed up and Ryan knew what it was before he even actually looked.
“You didn’t,” he groaned.
“We did,” Frank cackled.
Brendon was looking up with wide eyes. “Why are there leaves hanging from the
ceiling?”
“It’s called mistletoe,” Gerard giggled. “You’re supposed to kiss the person
next to you if you’re under it.”
“It’s tradition,” Mikey added. “So you have to do it.”
“Guys, this isn’t appropriate,” Ryan huffed.
“What?” Frank scoffed. “Why isn’t it? You can’t tell me that you guys haven’t
kissed yet.”
Ryan frowned at him.
Frank nodded slowly. “You totally haven’t kissed yet. That’s so vanilla.”
“He’s sixteen,” Ryan reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Frank said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t just kiss him. I
know you want to.”
“I wanna kiss you too,” Brendon chimed in, looking up at Brendon with a blush
and a smile. “Can I kiss you? I-I’ve wanted to kiss you since I got here.” He
looked down at his toes. “I just figured you wouldn’t want that yet.”
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed, unable to make these moral decisions, not when he could
feel Brendon’s body against his side.
“You should kiss him,” Gerard insisted. “It’ll be cute. First kiss on
Christmas!”
Brendon tapped Ryan’s shoulder for attention. When Ryan turned to look at him,
Brendon curled his fingers in the front of Ryan’s shirt and pulled him down
while going up on his own toes to kiss Ryan sweetly. Brendon went back down on
his feet and giggled, and Ryan really liked how much Brendon giggled. He also
really liked the warm touch of Brendon’s lips to his.
“Totally got that on camera,” Mikey said with a wide grin. “I’m sending that
shit to Pete.”
Ryan snorted and flipped Mikey off.
“It’s teasing,” Gerard said. “We’re teasing, Ry. Cause we’re family. And
families act like assholes to each other.”
“I like our family,” Brendon said with a wide smile.
. . .
Ryan knew what song he first wanted Brendon to hear a few hours later.
“Lemme show you,” Ryan murmured.
Brendon sat on the bed beside him after abandoning his own laptop to sit in
front of Ryan’s laptop. Ryan had iTunes pulled up and was navigating to the few
songs he had by Peter Gabriel. He didn’t usually enjoy most of Peter Gabriel’s
music, but a few songs made the exception, and this one, in particular, was a
favorite of Ryan’s for years. It was originally by Arcade Fire, but Ryan
preferred this cover.
“What’s it called?” Brendon asked.
“My Body is a Cage,” Ryan responded softly, before turning up the volume and
let the soft, melancholic chimes of the piano fill the silence of the room.
Ryan watched Brendon’s expression as he took in the broken voice that was
singing these words that gave Ryan chills, sometimes made him cry if he felt
broken enough. He knew what it was like. He knew the words of this song like he
knew his own thoughts.
“I like it,” Brendon whispered. “… Could you give it to me? For, for my, uh… My
phone?”
Ryan nodded.
Brendon kept listening. “That line,” he mumbled. “Can, can you play it again?
Or tell me what it was?”
“We take what we are given,” Ryan recited softly. “Just because you’ve
forgotten doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”
“Keep going?” Brendon requested.
“I’m living in an age that screams my name at night. But when I get to the
doorway, there’s no one in sight. I’m living in an age. They laugh when I’m
dancing with the one I love, but my mind holds the key. You’re standing next to
me. My mind holds the key. Set my spirit free.
“That’s how I felt,” Brendon said. “After waking up. I could hear you saying my
name, but you were never there. Everyone laughed at me or hated me for having
you. And, and I could only see you in my own mind.” He smiled. “I want to do
that. I wanna make music that helps other people get up in the day.”
Ryan smiled with him. “I think I can help you with that.”
. . .
Ryan first heard Brendon sing a week later. He was teaching Brendon how to play
guitar, as he did for a few hours every day, when suddenly Brendon had
struggled to ask Ryan to help him play a certain sound, so he’d sung it.
And holy shit, Brendon could fucking sing.
He could sing like fucking Patrick.
“Mikey!” Ryan had suddenly cried out. He was smiling wide with excitement.
Mikey came rushing in without a shirt and claw marks down his back and chest.
His hair was a fucking mess, and Ryan narrowed his eyes at how fucking sleepy
Mikey looked.
Brendon gasped. “Are you hurt?”
Mikey just grinned, appearing satisfied. “Fucking perfect, B,” he replied.
“What’s up, Ry?”
“B, B, sing the way you sang for me just now.”
Brendon hesitated for only a second before opening his mouth and singing the
same three notes, a chord progression Brendon had heard on the radio, with the
lungs of a fucking god.
Mikey laughed. “Dude, we have our fucking singer!”
“Your singer?” Brendon repeated. Ryan loved how Brendon repeated everything,
learning about the world for the first time.
“Fuck me like a slut on free anal day,” Mikey giggled. “He’s fucking amazing,
Ryan! Listen to those pipes!”
“Pipes?” Brendon repeated. “I don’t have any pipes.”
“You have a strong voice, and we sometimes call a voice pipes, because it can
come from our wind pipes, in a way,” Ryan told Brendon with a patient smile.
Brendon nodded slowly, like he was pretending to understand.
“Does he want me to be your singer?” Brendon asked.
Ryan smirked. “He does. And so do you. It doesn’t take much training to sing if
you’ve got the gift, which you do.”
“How do you know that I have the gift?”
“Because we can hear it,” Ryan replied softly. “We can hear it when you sing,
even when you talk, once we know it’s there. And we’d like you to sing for us.
For the music we make. We think you’d be really good at it.”
Brendon looked almost nervous.
“What’s wrong?” Mikey asked.
“Yeah, what’s wrong, baby?”
Brendon shrugged. “What if I’m not good a-and you make me leave?”
Mikey scoffed and Ryan was a little hurt, but this was also to be expected.
Brendon’s sense of self worth was basically nonexistent, no matter how much
Ryan told him he loved him. It was going to be an issue for a very, very long
time, Ryan knew that. He just had to always repeat what Brendon meant to him so
there would never be any doubt in his mind.
“You’re not leaving me,” Ryan said softly. “I would never make you leave.
You’re with me, through and through. I’ll sew my hand to your favorite sweater
if I have to. Anything to make you realize that I’m not leaving you, and you’re
not leaving me.”
Brendon smiled sadly, and nodded.
“We should talk to Josh,” Mikey said cautiously.
Ryan hesitated. He’d been scared to introduce Josh to Brendon, and vice versa.
He knew it was wrong, almost cruel. He knew he’d been avoiding one of the most
important people in the world to him in favor of another, and he knew that in
doing so, he was going against the very thing he’d preached just a week ago.
Ryan was a monstrous hypocrite, and an asshole, and he didn’t deserve Josh.
Josh deserved better, even.
Josh deserved Debby.
Ryan shuddered as he thought of how broken Josh had been when he’d met the
other man in the hospital, lied out on the bed, vulnerable to anything. Josh
was strong, one of the strongest people Ryan had ever known, because Ryan knew
that he would’ve just ended it if Brendon had died. The promises he’d made to
stay would’ve meant nothing to him at that point. But Josh was different.
Josh just kept fucking going. He put himself out there, time and time again,
exposing himself to the cruel world that had killed the love of his life. Josh
kept fucking going, kept smiling at the sun kept singing along to the radio,
and kept making some of the weirdest jokes Ryan had ever heard. Josh was the
fucking strongest and Ryan didn’t deserve him, and Josh definitely didn’t
deserve to be ignored.
“I have to call him,” Ryan said. “I’m going to call him.
“What?” Brendon asked.
Ryan stood after pecking Brendon’s lips. “I’m gonna call Josh, I’ll be back in
a second. Mikey, you should teach him bass.”
Mikey perked up and sat in front of Brendon. “Let’s learn something, Beebo.”
Ryan wasn’t worried about leaving Brendon with Mikey, because they got along
pretty well and Mikey was really good at making Brendon laugh with his
awkwardness, and really, Mikey was good at making everyone laugh with his
awkwardness as long as he didn’t get himself hurt, like the toaster accident.
Ryan went to the kitchen and dialed Josh’s number.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” was the first thing he said to Josh once Josh had
picked up.
“… Well, hello to you too, Ry.”
“I’m really sorry,” he continued. “I, I don’t know why I’ve been ignoring you.
I mean, I do know why, and it’s a shitty and stupid reasons, and I don’t know
why I’m such an asshole. I’m such a fucking asshole, Josh, I’m so sorry.”
Josh chuckled softly.“Dude, it’s only been a week. You realized what you were
doing, and you apologized. Better than what most people would do.” Ryan heard a
clatter through the phone, like he was standing up, then Josh was speaking
again. “I mean, you’re a good guy, and an even better friend. I understand why
you weren’t talking to me. I honestly expected it to last longer.” Ryan could
hear the smile in his voice. He sounded relieved. “Only a week? Jesus, Ryan,
you’re a swell guy.”
“I’m not,” he whimpered. “I ignored you, jesus! After I promised I wouldn’t!”
“I don’t see it as you ignoring me because you’re spiteful or mean,” Josh said
softly, obviously trying to alleviate Ryan’s guilt. “You were doing it for me
and for Brendon, not yourself. You were thinking of us. You were trying to
protect Brendon and you were trying to help me. Not sure why you wanted to help
me, but I know you, okay? I know you weren’t doing it for yourself, because
you’ve never known how to do anything for yourself.”
Ryan winced, because Josh was kinda right. “I just, I-I didn’t know if it would
hurt you to have my attention on someone else. And I don’t know how to tell
Brendon what happened between us yet. But I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not
ashamed of you.” He blushed faintly. “You were there for me in a way that he
wasn’t, you know? Because he couldn’t be. And I needed you, and I think you
needed me, and that was it.”
“That was it,” Josh agreed softly.
“I’m really sorry,” he whimpered.
“I know, Ry,”Josh hummed. “And I forgive you, even though I wasn’t even upset.
No harm, no foul, okay? I’m not holding it against you, and I never will.”
“I love you, Joshy,” Ryan said.
“I love you too, RyRo,” Josh replied happily.
“You need to come here,” Ryan said. “We, we have a singer! It’s Brendon!
Brendon, he, he can fucking sing, oh my god, he sounds fucking beautiful. And,
and Mikey wants him in the band, and I kinda want him in the band, because he
sounds so good, you know?” Ryan smiled shakily. “He sounds so good…”
“Oh my god,” Josh chuckled. “You’re so in love.”
Ryan blushed.
“It’s so good to hear you so happy, Ry,” Josh hummed. “You deserve a break, you
know? And you’ve got it, and I think it’s gonna last a long while, yeah? It’s
totally awesome right now, and I really like it.” Josh was audibly grinning.
“You’re so fucking deserving of this, Ryan. I love this. I love hearing you
like this. You being happy makes me happy.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Ryan said, because it was the truth. “No one really
does, you know that, right? You're an infinitely good person, and that’s all
there is to it. Unconditional love to the people you chose to give it to, and
that’s amazing. I just, thank you for being you.”
“Absolutely,” Josh hummed. “I’m coming over. I gotta hear Brendon’s voice.”
“Yeah?” Ryan asked, excited. “Now?”
“I mean, if that’s okay,” Josh replied. “I’d like to meet him.”
“Oh my god, yes,” Ryan said. “Yes, please. I, I know you guys will get along.”
“Sweet,” Josh said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
. . .
“Okay, okay, so, Brendon actually already knows two songs because he’s
amazing,” Mikey said as Ryan entered the room with Josh in tow. Ryan had kinda
just waited outside to see Josh, because he really needed a hug from the guy,
and Josh delivered. Josh gave the second best hugs in the world, because Ray’s
hugs were the actual best. He was big and broad and made you feel safe, and it
was just awesome. But Ryan loved Josh’s hugs just as much.
Now they were in Ryan and Brendon’s room, Mikey had his own base in his lap,
and Brendon had nothing in his hands, but there was a smile on his face, and he
looked really proud, or at least, hopeful that Ryan would be proud.
“Which songs?” Ryan asked.
“The, the one you showed me!” Brendon announced, grinning. “The one by Pete and
Patrick’s band! That, that one about wondering where the girlfriend is, or
something. That you said might be about Mikey? Or someone.”
Mikey snorted. “You think Grand Theft Autumn is about me?”
“I’d believe it,” Josh said. “Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a
gentleman? He’s totally taking about fucking someone while their other person
is gone or whatever. It’s totally about you, Mikey.”
“Or Ryan,” Mikey pointed out. “They fucked too.”
“No, Ryan fucked Spencer,” Josh snorted.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Mikey said.
Brendon frowned and looked to Ryan. “You had… the, the sex? With Spencer?”
“The sex,” Mikey repeated with a giggle.
“Why did you have the sex with Spencer?” Brendon asked with an upturned brow.
“I thought that was just with your special person.”
Ryan winced and had half a mind to chew out Mikey out to get Brendon’s
attention off of the sex topic, but that would be underhand and possibly teach
Brendon to avoid things he wanted others to forget about, which wasn’t
necessarily a good trait or habit to have. He sighed and prepared himself for
the sex talk that he had been hoping to avoid.
“You, you can have sex with other people as long as it’s consensual,” he told
Brendon carefully, not wanting to give too much away. “It’s fine, really. It
just won’t mean the same thing as when you’re with your soulmate.” He didn’t
want to say it wouldn’t be as important, because he didn’t see the nights he
shared with Josh as less important. He just wanted to let Brendon know that
there was a difference.
“You have sex with other people,” Josh chimed in. “You make love with your
soulmate.”
Ryan winced at how cheesy that phrase was, but Josh was right, and he’d said it
in the most simple way possible that Brendon would definitely understand. After
years of neglect and abuse, Brendon knew what love was better than most.
Brendon nodded slowly, looking a little less upset. “So, so Ryan didn’t make
love to Spencer? He just had the sex with him.”
“Sex,” Mikey cut in. “Just sex, no “the” sex. It doesn’t need that article.”
Brendon nodded again. “But, but Ryan just had sex with Spencer.”
“Exactly,” Ryan said, relieved to have gotten out of this so easily.
“Ryan would only ever make love to Brendon,” Josh said, sending Ryan a teasing
smirk. Ryan flipped him off from behind his back. “He’s in love with you, and
that’s it, absolutely, to the end.” They’d been saying that quite often,
lately. Ryan liked to appreciate the connotation. “So don’t worry, Brendon.
Especially since you’re here. You’re all he needs.”
“Who’re you?” Brendon asked.
“That’s Josh,” Ryan said. “He’s family.”
Josh perked up and Brendon looked to Josh and smiled and held out his hand, as
Ray had taught him to do.
“I’m Brendon,” he introduced, shaking Josh’s hand when their hands met.
“Josh Dun,” Josh giggled.
“You’re done?” Brendon asked. “Done with what? Why are you done?”
Mikey laughed into his palm and Josh just grinned.
“My last name is Dun,” he explained. “D-U-N. That’s it.”
“Oh,” Brendon murmured. “Like Ryan’s last name is Ross? And Mikey is Mikey Way?
And so are Gerard and Frank?”
“Exactly,” Josh hummed. “So will Ray’s last name. He’ll be Ray Way soon.”
Brendon smiled. “I’m glad I get to be there for the wedding. I’ve never been to
a wedding before. Who’s gonna be the bride?”
“Oh my god, me,” Mikey told him without hesitation. “I’m gonna be in a dress
and everything, and it’s gonna be so hot. Gonna wear lingerie and lace garters
and I’m gonna go the whole nine yards. Gonna do a lap dance for the first dance
and he’s gonna fuck my brains out tha—”
“Stop fucking talking, jesus,” Ryan choked out, actually moving to cover
Brendon’s ears.
Brendon was blushing faintly as he listened to Mikey with rapt attention.
“What’s lingerie?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan choked out, while Mikey just looked so fucking pleased with
himself. “It, it’s nothing, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’ve heard Gerard say it to Frank while they were kissing on the couch without
shirts on,” Brendon said, so fucking innocent. Ryan would bet money that if
Frank and Gerard had been naked together, they definitely weren’t just kissing.
“Gerard said something about dressing up for Frank. Is that what Mikey’s
talking about? Should I wear lingerie for Ryan?”
Ryan couldn’t fucking breathe, and he had no blood left in his body, because it
was all in his fucking face.
Josh laughed. “Why don’t we hear this song of yours, Brendon?”
Oh, thank god, Ryan loved Josh so much.
Brendon nodded eagerly. “I learned I Will.”
Ryan felt kinda like he’d been punched in the gut and given the greatest, most
thoughtful gift in the world at the same time. He knew that song like he knew
his own heartbeat, he knew every song Beatles’ song like they were his own
words, because he’d spent his whole life wishing they were and had fought sleep
just to write something close to the genius he’d had playing in his ear his
whole life.
“I just, I wanted to, like, find the words? That I feel when I think about
you.” Brendon grinned shyly, ducking his head and hiding behind bushy, heavy
hair. Ryan still needed to get him a haircut. “You seemed to love these songs a
lot… I don’t know, I just wanted you to smile for me the way you smile for the
song.”
“Sing it,” Mikey prodded, because Ryan couldn’t really speak past a huge lump
in his throat and it was very difficult to think outside the gesture that Ryan
hadn’t even imagined would be this amazing.
Brendon hesitated, but only for a second. He did what he always did when he
needed to gather some sort of courage for doing a task. Brendon looked to Ryan,
then took in a deep breath and began to sing, albeit, shakily at first.
"Will I wait a lonely lifetime time? If you want me to, I will...love you
forever and forever.” And holy shit, this was good. At first, Brendon’s voice
and wavered, like it always would, but it only took a few words for Brendon
toga confidence. Probably because he sounded fucking majestic and Josh kinda
looked like he was going to start clapping or something, and Mikey was just
enamored and looking at Brendon with giant fucking hearts in his eyes or his
pupils or something. Not literally, but Ryan could see them in his eyebrows or
whatever.“Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love
you when we're apart...And when at last I find you, your song will fill the
air…”
Brendon trailed off, looking like he wanted verbal confirmation that he was
doing well, even though their expressions showed enough.
“Fucking radical,” Josh giggled. “We need you. Like, we, we need you. Please
sing for us. They’re Ryan’s and Mikey’s and my words and shit, and it’ll be so
good. Please sing for us? We’ll pay you and shit, cause it’s your voice. You’ll
part of the band. You’ll be the face of the band. You’re a face. You are the
face. Be our voice?”
Brendon grinned and nodded, kinda blushing a bit, like Josh’s praise was making
him shy. It shouldn’t. Brendon sounded amazing and he needed to know that
better than anything else, better than any other concept. Brendon’s talent
should be household knowledge. Ryan was going to make Brendon’s talent
household knowledge.
“You’re gonna be our singer?” Ryan asked, just to make sure.
Brendon smiled brightly and nodded.
. . .
“Fireworks,” Ryan mumbled as he kissed Brendon almost desperately. Every nerve
was singing and he couldn’t feel much beyond Brendon’s soft skin just beneath
his fingertips. Brendon’s heart beat was right there, right on his palm. Ryan’s
hand was moving up and down Brendon’s chest, both their shorts tossed somewhere
else, because the room got warm when you were having some seriously awesome
make-outs.
Brendon was lying prone beneath him, stretched out and beautiful. His entire
torso was flushed, from his cheeks, down his neck, staining his chest. He was
gasping for breath, writhing beneath Ryan as Ryan kissed him breathless,
dancing his fingertips across his chest.
“You make me see fireworks,” Ryan breathed.
“R-Ryan,” Brendon whimpered, kissing him back desperately. “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan,
f-feels good.”
“Yeah?” Ryan asked with a small grin. “What feels good?”
Brendon keened softly into the kiss, pulling at Ryan’s skin to bring him
closer. He pressed his tongue into Ryan’s mouth, meeting the desperate trading
of saliva and soft noises of pleasure, and this, this was fucking awesome.
“Ryan,” Brendon gasped. Brendon’s hips rolled upwards and something hard
brushed Ryan’s something hard, and yeah, they were done here.
Ryan bolted off of Brendon and lied on the bed beside him, stuff. He clenched
to the sheets and breathed slowly to calm himself down, while Brendon whined
and pawed at Ryan, obviously wanting more.
“Stop,” Ryan ordered, and Brendon, thankfully, respected the request.
“You can watch if you want,” Brendon offered.
Ryan frowned and turned to look to Brendon, have meant to ask what he was
talking about. He kinda froze when he saw Brendon was lifting his hips and
pulling down his pants, letting his dick spring free. Like, literally,
Brendon’s dick just sort of sprang up. Ryan stared at it, because he’d never
really let himself do that before. And while it was small, it suited Brendon,
and Ryan could just imagine taking it into his mouth and letting it slide down
his throat, listening to Brendon cry out, and Ryan really needed to stop
thinking about this.
Brendon wrapped a hand around his cock, not nearly as clumsy or tentative as
he’d been the first time. As Brendon touched himself, his knees curled upwards
into his body, and he gasped and moaned softly, flexing his wrist and pumping
his cock, and Ryan watched with his mouth agape. Soon, Brendon’s legs got so
high that Ryan couldn’t see anymore. And he didn’t like that.
“Put your leg down,” Ryan whispered, needing to see, because, apparently, Ryan
was fifteen again and Brendon was Paul fucking McCartney with flushed cheeks
and bruised lips.
Brendon choked on a moan, but didn’t put his leg down.
Ryan had a little inner stalemate, before he reached out. Ryan held onto
Brendon’s upper thigh of his left leg and pulled it to the side. Brendon didn’t
fight him, and the leg splayed out, exposing Brendon, and Ryan’s mouth watered.
His grip on Brendon’s thigh became almost bruising, and Brendon’s hips hitched
upwards, fucking his fist.
Jesus, it was fucking gorgeous.
“Ryan,” Brendon gasped one more time before spilling almost peacefully into his
fist.
. . .
“What are fireworks?” Brendon asked from his beanie bag chair. They had eight
beanie bag chairs now and they were packing the house. Moving day was in two
weeks, but Ryan had wanted Brendon to see fireworks against the snow. He knew
Brendon had never seen fireworks because he’d always been in the woods whenever
they would be set off. Ryan wanted Brendon to see the colors. He hoped the loud
noises wouldn’t hurt too much.
“Fireworks are chemical explosions in the sky that create colors and patterns
and we use them for celebrations,” Ryan said. He played with Brendon’s fingers,
trying to get his mind off his nightmare from half an hour ago. It had been
about a car. A car crash that Brendon wouldn’t tell him anything more about.
“Chemicals?” Brendon repeated. “Like the stuff we use to clean the floors and
counters?
Ryan shrugged. “Something like those,” he replied as he flicked through the
channels to find something that would numb both their minds like they needed.
“They’re not chemicals we can get our hands on, that anyone could get their
hands on, legally. But you’re able to buy fireworks during certain times of the
year.”
Brendon smiled a bit. “Can we get some now?”
Ryan paused, thinking. “I don’t see why not.”
. . .
“Okay, so we’re not going to let Mikey set one off, because that’s just fucking
dumb,” Frank snickered. “It would be stupid to let the person who stuck a fork
in the toaster set off a fucking firework, and I’m not into catching anything
on fire, or catching myself on fire, so none for Mikey!”
Brendon giggled and looked to Mikey for his rebuttal or defense. “Fuck you,
Frank,” Mikey drawled, his middle finger in the air. “I have skills. Skills
you’d only dream of having.”
“Skills including the ability to willingly lick an electric socket,” Gerard
giggled. “I mean, it wasn’t even a dare, because no one would be stupid enough
to dare you to do that, and you just tried to fucking stick your tongue in
there!” Gerard was unboxing a bunch of sparklers and poppers. “It was so scary,
Mikey, I just grabbed your ankle and pulled you away. You almost died, Mikey. I
almost lost my precious baby brother to his own stupid ideas.”
“I just wanted to see if I could make it slippery so I could fit my fucking
charger, god,” Mikey said, though he was grinning, and Ryan knew Mikey also
knew he’d been fucking stupid back then. He still kinda was.
“Fuck, get back, get back!” Josh was suddenly shouting form where he’d been
prepping a cluster of fireworks.
Brendon scrambled away, already giggling, because Brendon was either in a
constant state of laughter or curiosity. Mikey was right behind him, but Ray
and Ryan had shitty reaction time and both just looked to see what it was they
were supposed to be running from. Ray ducked with a yelp and Ryan felt the air
on his arm singe away as a rocket shot right past him.
Ryan just kinda sat there, scared to move. Being still had saved him last time.
Hopefully he wouldn’t die.
“What the fuck, Frank!” Gerard shouted, laughing. “You almost killed Ryan!”
“Can I move?” Ryan asked, voice cracking. He jumped when there was a stomach
and chest suddenly pressed against his back. Ryan snapped his neck around, then
smiled when he saw Brendon, who was grinning. “Can I move?” he asked Brendon,
feeling better.
“Of course!” Brendon ducked his head in and kissed Ryan’s cheek.
“When do the actual fireworks start?” Mikey asked. He was putting his gloves
back on, apparently deciding that the warmth they provided was more important
than their threat of flammability.
“In an hour,” Ray told Mikey, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around
Mikey’s waist and rest his chin on Mikey’s head. “We were gonna grab the car
and maybe get some better seats, yeah? Maybe find someplace that has outdoor
seating with food and stuff. We can get hot chocolate and stay warm and watch
the clock come down.”
“What are we happy about again?” Brendon asked.
“The new year,” Gerard supplied, always one of the most eager people to help
answer Brendon’s questions. Gerard fucking loved helping Brendon. It was kinda
the sweetest thing ever to Ryan. “We’re celebrating the end of this year and
going into the next. It’s always a really big deal, at least in America. We’ve
got balls that drop and everyone counts down and wears stuff with the upcoming
year on it, and there are television shows and music shows and all kinda of
shows and it’s just a lot of fun to spend time with your friends and family and
there’s the deal of the first kiss of the year and it’s cute and stuff, and I
like it a lot, because it’s when people make resolutions for the new year with
new ideas and hopes and dreams and it’s super important, if you want it to be.”
Brendon looked excited. “I want Ryan to be my first kiss of the ear!”
Gerard chuckled.
“If it was anyone else, we’d be worried,” Josh hummed. “I mean, who else would
you kiss? Trick question, I know the answer is me.” He puckered up and batted
his eyelashes at Brendon, who giggled again.
“I wanna kiss Ryan,” Brendon repeated.
“Of course you do,” Ryan teased with a wink. Brendon blushed prettily and
pulled back, sitting on the ground and looking to the fireworks that Josh had
returned to.
“What will they do once they’re lit?” he asked curiously.
“Explode!” Frank cheered.
Brendon opened his mouth to ask what he meant when the fireworks suddenly shot
into the air with a shriek and a whistle. Brendon gasped and watched with wide
eyes as the rockets burst into showers of fire and green and gold and red and
Brendon was laughing and darting forward, arms in the air to try and catch
whatever was falling. Ryan’s eyes lit up as he watched, so in love that he
couldn’t breath. Brendon looked fucking ethereal and otherworldly like this,
lit up by the chemical reaction above his head, and the snow beneath his feet.
Sparks fluttered down and almost touched Brendon’s hair, but they burned away
before the could do any serious damage. Brendon loved it anyway.
They found a bakery that provided breakfast all day and sat outside on the
patio, looking to the main city for the fireworks display Ryan knew like the
back of his hand. The show was almost always the same. The same music played
over the local classical radio station and restaurants within view always tuned
in to “complete” the experience. Mikey swore by this shit. Ryan was excited for
this to be his last new year in Chicago.
Brendon just fucking loved it, though. He ooh’d and awh’d with every single
firework blast, he’d applauded with every lull in display, and he’d screamed
along with the fireworks at the finale.
It would’ve been boring as fuck without Brendon.
. . .
Brendon had a nightmare the night before they left for LA.
It was a bad one.
Ryan woke up to him crying out, actually fucking screaming, writhing and
thrashing out into the darkness like he was trying to fend away some monster
Ryan couldn’t see. Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to see it.
Brendon was just so fucking scared and the next swipe into nothing turned up
something. Brendon’s nails swiped across Ryan’s arm, tearing open the skin, and
Ryan made a mental note to get the kid to clip his fucking nails.
The blood seeped into the sheets and Ryan tried to reach Brendon and calm him
down, but ended up getting knuckles in his eye, and then a fist to his lip.
Blood slid between Ryan’s lips and he gagged at the taste. The screaming kept
coming and Ryan didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t wake Brendon, he couldn’t
even get closer than arm’s length.
“Ryan!” Gerard gasped as he burst into the room, switching on the lights. Ryan
seized the new level of visibility and gathered up the comforter, throwing it
over Brendon’s body. He climbed on top of Brendon and pinned down his flailing
arms, yelling Brendon’s name.
Brendon suddenly became very quiet and very still.
“… Ryan?”
Ryan climbed off of the boy and pulled the blanket away from his face. “Baby,”
he breathed. “Baby, are you okay?”
Brendon was beginning to cry, his entire body shaking.
“I don’t want them to find me,” was all Brendon could get out.
Gerard ended up spending the rest of the night with Ryan and Brendon, both
adults sleeping on either side of the terrified boy. It was all they could do
to help him feel safe.
. . .
Josh showed up that morning with a duffel bag and a sheepish expression.
Ryan didn’t need him to say a fucking word. He just smiled and wrapped his arms
around Josh and promised that they’d get an extra bed frame so he could stay in
the guesthouse with him and Brendon. When Ryan had told Brendon that Josh was
coming with, Brendon had launched himself up from the floor of the empty living
room and clung to Josh, giggling and ranting about how he was gonna make Josh
show him the ocean. When Ryan told Brendon that Josh had never seen the ocean
before either, Brendon had become over the moon. He’d pulled Josh away, going
on and on about what they were gonna do together, leaving Ryan to look around
the home one last time.
It had been his saving grace when Pete had thrown him aside. Horrible memories
had been made in this place. A suicide attempt, loss of life, loss of hope and
will to live.
But Gerard had proposed in this house, in this very room. Mikey had moved back
to this place after leaving LA. The horrible had been met with the bad, head
on, and neither buckled. Ryan was happy to leave, but he was sad to go. This
house was his home, and he would never be able to forget it, no matter how hard
he tried.
. . .
“Jesus, this place is something else,” Frank murmured as he looked around. The
high ceiling embellished the modern design of the whole house. It had four
bedrooms, though one was probably going to become Gerard’s studio, and an attic
with that. When Ryan had seen pictures of the place, he’d assumed it was on a
more regular size, but when they’d arrived, Ryan had discovered that the front
door was over ten feet tall, so the house was fucking huge, jesus. The outer
walls were white and the windows were tall and scarily clean, no smudges or
marks anywhere. The house was sparsely furnished and Ray and Frank set about to
making it feel more like home once the moving truck had arrived.
“Ray and I have the attic,” Mikey told Ryan as they put up framed photos.
“We’re gonna paint the walls and everything. There’s a huge sunroof, you know?
I think that place used to be a ballroom or something weird. Ray wants us to
put the bed right underneath it. We’ll watch the stars at night, or whatever we
can see.”
“This place is amazing,” Ryan said softly. He glanced out the window to the
backyard to see Josh and Brendon darting through the dying garden, exploring.
They found a pool. Josh had said he wanted to grow fruits and shit, and Ryan
had been surprised. He’d never known Josh to like gardening, though it was
sweet. And also, nearly impossible to grow anything in the frigid world of
Chicago. Ryan knew thatJosh knew he would have much more luck here in LA.
“I think this is it,” Mikey said with a grin. “Yeah? That place you look for as
a kid? Home?”
Ryan shrugged as he hooked a photo of Gerard and Frank’s impromptu wedding onto
the wall. “Close enough.”
“Have you seen the guest house yet?” Mikey asked.
Ryan shook his head. “I can’t believe your brother just gave it to me and B and
Josh like that.”
“What’s so hard to believe?”
Ryan smiled to himself. “Your brother is a good guy. All of you are good guys.
You’re all the best, and I’d be long dead without you.”
Mikey snickered and nudged Ryan playfully with his hip. “Dude, you gotta stop
thanking us like this. Makes us feel like you’re our indentured servant or
something. We did this because you’re family and love makes the world go round.
That’s it. There’s no addendum, no alternate agenda, no hidden rules or
catches. You’re family, Ryan. Wrap your head around it so you can join the
party.”
“I don’t know,” Ryan snorted. “It’s hard to believe without the last name Way.
Maybe I should get married to you before Ray does, just to go the extra mile.”
“You’re fucking weird,” Mikey chuckled.
Ryan paused. “When are you going to marry him?”
“Valentine’s day,” Mikey replied without hesitation. “We’re gonna get married
on the beach. It’s gonna be really pretty and we’re gonna keep it small, yeah?
He’s going online to find someone who can do it legally. It’s gonna be bigger
than Gee’s and Frank’s, but not anything huge. We want it to be personal, you
know? Pete and Patrick are gonna come, and, obviously, all of you. That’s gonna
be it. Small and private, only us.”
Ryan grinned. “You guys are so fucking cute.”
Mikey stuck his tongue out at Ryan and went back to hanging another photo. It
was of Gerard and Mikey as little kids, running through a sprinkler. Mikey had
a popsicle in his mouth and Gerard was throwing his sandal at his brother.
. . .
Ryan and Brendon and Josh moved into the guest house and fucking loved it. Two
bedrooms, which was awesome. Josh talked about getting himself a bunkbed but
taking out the lower half for a desk or something, until Mikey convinced him
otherwise because how the hell was Josh gonna get laid in a bunkbed. Josh was
charming, not five.
For now, Ryan had his large mattress on the floor. Josh had only brought the
clothes he owned and a few more things to LA, so he was sleeping on the
mattress with Ryan and Brendon.
“I came because I knew I belonged with you,” Josh sighed. “Just, I don’t know.
Tyler and I are thick as thieves, and we’re so close that we don’t really even
have to be in the same country. We’re close no matter what. I don’t have to
live on the same block as him to feel like I could finish his sentences. And
he’s got a lot of shit he wants to work towards. He has the food trucks and
Jenna and they’re talking about having kids. I can’t be around for that. I
mean, I can. I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to imagine what could
have been with Debby. I want a new life. One without her ghost.”
Ryan nodded to show he understood, tracing his fingers up and down the
metacarpals of Josh’s hand.
Josh sighed again. “I just want to find something,” he murmured. “Someone. A
person like you, you know? Not you, exactly, I’d prefer a vagina, if I can pick
and choose. I mean, if I happened to fall in love with a guy, that’s cool. I
can work a dick, you know that.”
Ryan snorted and Josh looked so fucking proud of himself.
“It’s really okay with me if it’s a guy,” Josh continued. “I’m not picky
anymore. I’d have considered it before Debby., because I had Debby. Debby had a
vagina, end of story, she was a chick with an awesome set and a smile that
could outshine the sun.” Josh was quiet for a moment. “… I’m just scared that
having a soulmate means there’s only one person out there who’s any good for
you. I’m scared that I’m not meant for anyone else.” HIs voice was getting
choked up like he was beginning to cry. “What if Debby was the only person who
could put up with me?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Ryan said softly. “You and I were really
good together.”
“Except you have Brendon,” Josh replied. “You were done with me and went to
him.”
“No, no,” Ryan mumbled. He sat up and straddled Josh’s waist because Josh was
familiar and comforting and they were close, always would be. Ryan had to keep
Josh here so Ryan could talk to him. “Dude, I’m not done with you. I’m not
gonna be done with you. You’re my best friend and you’re amazing and I don’t
want to be without you, ever. I can’t tell you how happy I was when you showed
up at the door and said you’d come with. I wasn’t sure of this until I knew
you’d be with me, Joshy.”
Josh looked up at Ryan with tears in his eyes, his lower lip trembling. “I-
I don’t want to lose you to anyone. And I don’t want to be so broken I can’t
find someone who can really love me.”
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Ryan promised. “You’re not gonna lose anyone to
anything, okay? You’ve got Tyler and you’ve got Jenna and you’ve got me. You’ve
also got every single person on this property. Frank adores you and Mikey would
ask me when you’d be coming over and he’d get so fucking excited every time I
told him. You’ve got us, Joshy. And you’re always gonna have us, because we
love you, okay? You’ve saved me. You’ve kept me alive, and that’s fucking huge.
And I’m gonna keep saying it, okay? Family. Family, family, family. We’re
family. You’re my family.”
Josh let out a sob, then covered his mouth as he nodded. Ryan lied down beside
Josh and wrapped his arms around him. “You’re Josh fucking Dun,” he said. “And
I’m just Ryan Ross. I’m lucky to have you, and I’ll always need you. You’re
gonna find a great girl out here. Or boy.”
“Or boy,” Josh replied with a tiny smile.
“Or boy,” Ryan affirmed. “A really sexy boy. How likes it up the butt and stuff
and you’ll make cute gay babies and you’ll suck his dick twice a month.”
Josh choked on a laugh. “Let’s, let’s just plan on this person having a vagina,
please.”
“Oh, totally,” Ryan drawled. “You’re such a lady’s man. You’re gonna have all
of those vaginas, all of your face. She’s beauty, she’s grace, she wants to sit
on Josh’s face. Or Pete’s face. Anyone’s face. Girls love sitting on faces, you
know? It feels good and shit and whatever, I don’t actually know, because I
have a dick and literally everything feels good on a dick, as long it’s
consensual.”
“Okay, uh, it’s four AM, let’s not let this get too dark,” Josh said.
Ryan poked Josh’s rib. “Dark is my middle name. Ryan Dark Ross.”
“Sounds like you’re a tanning model,” he giggled.
Ryan meant to fuck with Josh, or at least strip, but Brendon was suddenly
crying, and it wasn’t good, hardly ever was, but this really wasn’t good. He
was crying brokenly and there were tears staining the pillow and Ryan didn’t
fucking know what to do.
“Baby, baby,” Josh murmured, sitting up and gathering Brendon in his arms. Ryan
moved forward and kissed Brendon’s cheek, over and over and over, hoping to
alleviate the fear. He ran his hand up and down Brendon’s side, then trailed it
over to rub Brendon’s stomach, because Brendon sometimes like that? Ryan wasn’t
sure if he did. Maybe it was something his mind made up, maybe it didn’t help,
but Ryan was happy to just try.
“Does he like it when people play with his hair?” Josh asked. “I’m gonna play
with his hair.
Ryan snorted and reached out to bat Josh’s hand away and replace it with his
own, running his fingers through Brendon’s shaggy hair. “I swear, if you don’t
keep this platonic, I’m chopping your balls off.”
Josh snickered and Brendon eventually calmed in his sleep, drifting off into
something more peaceful. It was much nicer, really. Ryan wasn’t sure how much
longer this would last, and he was a bit jealous of how Josh was holding
Brendon, but jesus, it was helping, wasn’t it? And that was all that mattered.
. . .
“Holy crap!” Brendon was shouting as he darting away from the waves. “Oh my
god, there’s so much water! There’s all of that water!” Brendon spread his arms
wide, facing the ocean. “There’s so much of it!” He giggled, then turned to
face Ryan. “Can I drink it?”
“No,” Ryan said with a small smirk. “No, you can’t. It could actually make you
really sick. It dehydrates you. Salt water isn’t good for you.”
“Salt,” Brendon breathed. He dropped to his knees and shoved his face into the
water.
Ryan chuckled when Brendon came back up gagging, obviously having drunk the
water and disliking the taste.
“It’s like poison!” Brendon choked out, though his eyes were still smiling.
“I love the ocean,” Brendon told Ryan with an almost magical expression.
Ryan smiled at him. “I love you.”
. . .
The twenty-fifth of January was opposite day, and while Ryan really didn’t want
to make a big deal out of the little holidays that were basically not a thing,
but he really liked this one. He really liked the idea of opposite day, because
dude, fucking opposite day. Spongebob made it awesome. Everything made it
awesome.
Ryan stole Frank’s pants and had to belt them up over his hips. Frank’s knees
were at Ryan’s lower thighs and they were basically capris. Pete and Patrick
finally got to come and meet Brendon and Patrick had dressed as fucking
Patrick, actual Patrick, Patrick fucking Star. He was wearing a bunch of pink
and had on pink mittens and had pointed his hair straight up. Pete was wearing
a panda hat, and Ryan saw him as the laziest sack of shit ever. Until Mikey
came downstairs with a unibrow drawn and that was it.
“You’re the fucking worst,” Ryan said. Frank giggled, wearing three inch heels.
“I’m tall, Gee!” Frank exclaimed. “Come downstairs and look!” Gerard was busy
getting ready and didn’t answer.
“Who am I again? Brendon asked as he came out with his pants around his arms
and back live sleeves, and a baggy shirt cinched around his waist for pants.
Ryan thought he was absolutely fucking adorable.
“You’re the epitome of opposite day, baby,” Ryan hummed, reaching out to pull
Brendon into his side.
Pete’s eyes lit up. “Is that Brendon?” he asked with a smile. “Is that the
coolest cat in town? Is that the Mr. B-den Urie, awesome guy? The one who Ryan
is amazingly in love with forever? That Brendon Urie?”
“Not Brendon Urie,” Brendon said. “I’m Brendon Ross.”
Ryan choked on his own fucking tongue, jesus.
“Brendon Ross?” Pete smirked at Ryan. “Look at that, Ry. He’s moving pretty
fucking fast. Think you can keep up with him?”
“I’m gonna try,” Ryan choked out, blushing over his entire face, from his
fucking nose to his fucking thighs, he was blushing over his entire body and it
was fucking amazing, because Brendon considered himself to be Brendon fucking
Ross, and that was beyond a dream come true, that just wasn’t fucking real. It
felt better than anything else he had ever felt, oh my god, Ryan couldn’t
fucking stop smiling.
“I love you so much,” Ryan said, because what else was he supposed to say? What
else could he say but what was the only thing he could even comprehend right
now? “I love you so much,” Ryan said said again. “So, so fucking much. I just
love you, and it’s fucking awesome, and you’re fucking awesome, I just love
you.”
“I fucking love you too, Brendon!” Pete laughed.
“Let’s get fucking opposite!” Frank crowed, grabbing a soda from the fridge and
throwing it at Mikey. Pete laughed and grabbed a bag of Doritos and tore it
open over Ray’s head after standing on a table. Ray had been utterly silent
because he was dressed in flat black and just wasn’t speaking because he
thought he spoke too much and decided the opposite was to not speak at all.
Mikey was also making it a personal mission to get Ray to fucking scream in the
best way.
“I’m gonna kill all of you if you break anything!” Gerard shouted from the
stairs. He was walking down in fucking stilettos with a stain red dress wrapped
around his body with his hair done up and his fucking legs and arms shaved.
Frank went very quiet.
“Get back upstairs,” Frank told his husband in a low voice. “Or I’m gonna fuck
you on this god damn table.”
Ryan took Brendon outside and they played I Like, I Don’t Like for three hours
straight.
. . .
“We have a show tonight,” Brendon said. He seemed nervous, was fiddling with
the hem of his shirt. “Our first show? A-and I know you say that I can do it,
that I know all the words and I sing really well, but…”
“It’s really okay, B,” Ryan hummed. “It’s a small bar, and you’re technically
not even allowed to do much else but play.”
Brendon smiled shakily. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“It’s okay,” Ryan assured him. “Just a show. We’ve got this, we’ve always got
this. Pete got us this guy and he said that this was where they got their first
show, so it’s kinda a nice-isn place and no one really knows us so no one
expects anything from us, you know? It’s gonna have, like, thirty people there,
and none of them are gonna know us.”
“Only thirty?” Brendon asked with a shaky smile, obviously wanting to be
reassured.
“Only thirty,” Ryan promised.
. . .
There were over a hundred people, and Pete knew all of them, because they were
people of fucking business and music and fucking everything, jesus. Ryan had
almost started having an anxiety attack when he saw all the people dressed like
punks and smart people and rich people and jesus, Ryan was so lucky that Josh
was the happiest person ever and totally excited about got Brendon pumped up.
Mikey had, like, three beers to get rid of his shaking hands and Ryan just
kinda stood there and played and watched Brendon fucking preform. The first
song with tentative, but Brendon had a fucking voice and a fucking talent, and
he was meant to be onstage.
It went well, and Ryan fell asleep that night on the sofa with Brendon sprawled
out on top of him, shirtless.
It was good.
. . .
“Remember when I was drugged and maybe raped, though I probably wasn’t, because
my ass didn’t hurt?” Mikey asked breathlessly at the foot of the stage after
the show. Josh and Brendon were out meeting people and making connections, and
Ryan wasn’t quite up to that, so he was here with Mikey.
Ryan nodded, grimacing. “Doubt I’ll ever forget.”
Mikey hummed and nodded, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “I did
forget.”
Ryan looked to him, a little surprised.
Mikey smiled. “I fucking forgot, Ryan. And not in the repression way. Like, I-
I actually forgot. It was a good sort of forget, too. I just, I forgot. It was
pushed away and it wasn’t lingering and everything was fine. I just forgot.”
Ryan smiled tentatively.
“Is that normal?” Mikey asked.
“Nothing and everything is,” Ryan said. “If you’re happy and not hurting anyone
else, then that’s all that matters.”
Mikey grinned and looked out at the crowd. “It’s all coming together.”
“We need to work on an album,” Mikey said. “We do. We’ve got songs, original
ones. Now we just gotta get them together and really make something cohesive. I
could save up for studio time and we could really make this work.” He grinned
at Ryan. “Sound like fun?”
“Sounds like a future,” Ryan agreed.
. . .
“I could give you a couple lessons,” Patrick offered Brendon the next morning
as they all ate s’mores for breakfast in the backyard. “I mean, I’d like to
think that I learned a few things while touring and shit, you know? And I can
totally help you get that tenor you wish you could reach in the shower without
sucking your balls back in.”
Brendon snickered and nodded.
“I think Brendon is an excellent singer,” Ryan defended.
“And I think Patrick’s a fucking amazing singer,” Pete cut in. “But he’s a
perfectionist, and I could never win. I just can never convince him that he’s
perfect, you know? And you’ll never be able to convince Brendon. It’s the
singer’s curse. An endless cycle of us telling them they’re sex and should wear
leather, but all they wear are oversized sweaters and trucker hats.”
Patrick squinted his eyes at Pete.
Pete made a kissy face. “Pucker up, baby.”
“I’m gonna chop your dick off and eat it in front of you,” Patrick said flatly.
Pete gaped.
“I’d like you to teach me,” Brendon said. “Please.”
Patrick smirked and tossed a corner of graham cracker at Brendon.
“Patrick’s gonna learn you a thing,” Pete snickered. “So very many.”
. . .
It was bedlam in Brendon’s head.
Nightmare after nightmare after fucking nightmare, and Ryan couldn’t help him,
really. He could just lie there with him and hope Brendon woke up before
hurting Ryan accidentally. Those were usually the worst. When Brendon would see
what he’d done. He looked like he’d rather die than wake up again to see
another mark on Ryan that was his own fault
Ryan would do the best he could to make Brendon feel better, but nothing ever
worked.
Ryan knew that he was in a rut that changed. He’d thought he’d dug out when
he’d found Brendon, but he had only turned a corner. Now he was helpless to
save Brendon from the demons in his head. And it just wasn’t fair.
Brendon had a two nightmares in one night and the second one left him
practically seizing.
It had been very difficult night.
Ryan hadn’t slept after the second night and had stayed awake with Josh and
Mikey and Patrick for the rest of it. Brendon had been okay when he woke up the
next morning, but Ryan had been very not-okay.
He was almost getting used to not being okay again.
. . .
Their second show went better than the first.
“Jesus, I don’t get it!” Pete was laughing as he walked around the backyard
with a bear in his hand and a flaming stick in the other. Frank had encouraged
a fire battle and Pete and Mikey had squared of. Predictably, Mikey set one of
his eyebrows on fire. They should’ve seen that coming.
“I mean, I’ve invited all my buddies to your shows, and I’ve always said, like,
hey man, these guys have done either one show or no shows ever, so keep it
chill and they’ll wow you, you just gotta let them get with it, but what the
fuck! You’ve rocked it twice! And these are your first shows!” Pete turned to
narrow his eyes at Ryan and Josh and Brendon, but not Mikey, because he was
inside treating his singed eyebrow. “Wait, have you guys been doing shows
behind my back? You assholes.”
“We haven’t done a thing,” Ryan snorted. “Don’t be a dick.”
“You guys are just so good!” Pete exclaimed. “You’re so in sync! It’s amazing!
You’re, like, so fucking natural onstage! The way Mikey and Brendon goof off
while Ryan and Josh feed of of each other and how Josh keeps the energy up and
Brendon feeds off of that, and Ryan’s, like chill enough to keep things from
not going to crazy… Not to mention your fucking music, god!”
“You can thank Josh and Mikey and Brendon for that,” Ryan said automatically.
Pete threw his fucking flaming stick at Ryan, what the shitting christ, what
the fuck, man.
“Shut up,” Pete almost snarled. Ryan started stomping on the flaming stick that
was in the grass, hoping nothing bad would start. He knew Ray and Josh would be
upset about the scorch marks come tomorrow. “Jesus, Ryan, you know I read that
song you had in your BIO notebook, right? The one about how your mom and dad
met. About why they got married.”
“You mean the song about how they told me they were a mistake, and I was a
mistake,” Ryan translated dryly.
Pete shrugged. “So what? They’re good words. You write words that are good.”
“How did English class go for you, Pete?” Frank asked with a condescending
smirk.
Pete grabbed the smoldering stick off the ground and threw it at Frank. “All
I’m saying, Ryan, is that you’re calling yourself shit when you’re actually
made of diamonds. You’ve got these words in your head that belong out there,
words that need to be listened to, okay? Because that’s how good you are. It’s
literally a crime not to share you words.”
Ryan paused, then threw the last bit of the burnt stick at Pete. “You’re
sweet,” he drawled.
“Fucking dick!” Pete shrieked, laughing and grabbing a beer so he could pour it
over Ryan’s head. “I’m gonna castrate you with this fucking bottle, you piece
of shit!”
Brendon laughed and grabbed some embers and threw them at Pete. Ryan had been
worried the kid could hurt himself, when he remembered everyone else had hurt
Brendon first, and he had the palm calluses of a fucking mountain man. Brendon
would be fine. Pete, not really.
. . .
February eleventh was William Beckett’s birthday.
Ryan didn’t know how many years it had been, because he hadn’t had the stomach
to count. He couldn’t measure his life in years of absence, and he couldn’t
handle remembering the way they’d died.
Everyone was very solemn.
It was kinda because they’d always been somewhat down every time a birthday of
a lost one came around, but now Brendon was around to observe from the outside,
and he’d asked questions. Saying it aloud made it more real and more jarring.
Pete and Patrick had come over when Mikey had started crying over a routine
phone call about their next show. It had only taken a sobbing of William’s name
to explain everything. Pete and Pat had come over in a matter of an hour,
because LA traffic was hell, and Pete drove extra cautiously when Patrick was
with him, because he wanted to keep Patrick safe.
Ryan had only had to tell Brendon it was Bill’s birthday for Brendon to
remember and understand.
It had been a somber day of gradual realization that the happiest people could
meet the worst fucking end, and Ryan kinda came to the realization that there
was no god, basically.
“I-I don’t know how people can believe there’s someone good up there when bad
stuff like that happens,” Brendon told Ryan in an achingly small voice. “I
don’t understand how that works. What has to be going on in their brain to just
ignore what’s in front of your eyes?”
“It’s not that simple.” Pete had been quiet fora very long time up until that
point. Ryan was surprised he was talking. “It’s not always black or white.
People in shitty situations need something to get them through it. You had
Ryan, Brendon, but some people don’t have anything except a holy book and a
couple hymns. And look at the amazing things that came from religion.”
“Like what?” Frank asked.
“Like, like art,” Pete replied without much need for thought. “Renaissance art
was heavily influenced by religion. And all the ancient statues of the Greeks
and Romans came from their religion. A lot of good music comes from people with
religious backgrounds. They’ve done a lot of good.”

“Like what?” Frank pressed, rolling his eyes a bit. “All they’ve done is
insight genocide. Muslims, Catholics, some religions even require fucking
cannibalism.”
“Wait, really?” Mikey asked.
Frank nodded. “The Binderwurs ate their sick to sacrifice to Kali. And Aztec
priests would eat the bodies of their sacrificed.”

“That’s fucked up,” Gerard
snorted. “Religion is fucked up.”
Pete scowled. “Well, religion fucking saved my life, so you can thank those
fucked up people for having me around.”
Patrick grimaced. He obviously knew the story.
“How did they save you?” Ray asked cautiously.
Pete shrugged stiffly. “Recovering from that suicide attempt. I was in the
hospital and Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah started playing and I just…” He sighed.
“I, I realized I was stupid? But not really. I don’t know what happened. I just
know that I changed for the better cause of his song.”
Patrick leaned against Pete and Brendon crawled over on his hands and knees to
hug Pete. And this was kinda amazing, because Brendon was shy of touching
people that weren’t Ryan, so fuck, this was huge.
“I’m glad Jeff Buckley saved you,” Brendon said simply.
Pete grinned and hugged Brendon back. “I love this kid, Ryan.”
Ryan smiled softly. “I love him too.”
. . .
“Hey, so, the wedding’s today,” Ray told Ryan as he made scrambled eggs in the
main house kitchen. Ryan jolted in shock and accidentally knocked over the
cardboard carton of orange juice, so Ryan didn’t suck that much. Except that he
didn’t know it was Mikey and Ray’s fucking wedding today.
“No one else knew,” Ray continued. “Like, literally no one, Ry. We hadn’t been
sure what day it was gonna be on, so we played it by ear. And we decided,
according to the weather and stuff, that today would be the best day.”
“On Valentine’s Day?” Ryan asked with a grin.
Ray smirked a bit and shrugged. “Just so happened to be Valentine’s Day, yes.”
Ryan felt like he could dance. Or something.
“So, around lunch? We’re gonna all go down to the beach. The guy is gonna be
there and we’re gonna get married and then head somewhere for lunch. Does that
sound okay?”
Ryan nodded. “Does anyone else know?”
Ray shook his head. “You’re the first one to be awake. How’s Brendon?”
Ryan smiled softly and just shrugged. “He’s good.”
Ray smirked. “Next wedding will be yours.”
Ryan blushed and went back to his orange juice with a shy grin on his face.
. . .
Ray switched it up and was the one to wear the white. It was a pristine,
gorgeous tuxedo that Ryan had never even imagined could be pulled off by
anything other than a mannequin, but jesus, Ray could fucking pull it off. He
did pull it off. Mikey was in a black suit, apparently acting like the man of
the relationship, even though everyone knew it was bullshit and Gerard had
laughed when he’d seen the two separate outfits, because Gerard was the old
brother, and he was a piece of shit and they loved him.
The beach had been regularly crowded, meaning they were able to find a nice,
open spot. Ryan was pretty sure there was something illegal about this, but
none of them cared. They were just gonna show up, say/hear the vows, then eat
at Hard Rock Café. Which was so fucking classy, but Mikey swore by the place
and said that they were going to be on that wall of stardom one day, and Mikey
wanted to be able to say his wedding was there, kinda. Ryan didn’t mind. He
liked the nachos.
The beach was fucking sandy, yeah, and Ryan was in sandals and cargo shorts and
some blue button up shirt that wasn’t Ryan’s. Ryan thought he looked nice.
Brendon was all cute in slacks that he’d asked Ryan to get him at the store,
with a cute Hawaiian shirt because Brendon liked bright colors and patterns.
Everyone else was dressed like that. A sort of formal cool look. Ryan liked it
because it was super relaxed and kept Brendon being relaxed.
And it was an amazing ceremony because it was just so fucking Ray and Mikey and
so fucking this family and so fucking what they are. Mikey had looked so in
love when he’d gone up on his toes to kiss Ray. They’d both been kinda clumsy
in the sand, and that had made it even more them. The restaurant had been very
accommodating to the party of nine, and had even gotten excited about Pete and
Patrick, apparently recognizing the musicians. They got an awesome table and
Pete and Patrick had gotten their photo taken a bunch of times, and it was
kinda normal, until they got recognized. They, as in, Brendon, Josh, Mikey, and
Ryan.
Two girls and this boy came up to the table and fawned over Pete and Patrick at
first, yeah, but then they turned their attention to Brendon and them, and
jesus, Ryan realized they didn’t even have a name. They didn’t even have a
fucking band name, they’d only done two shows, how the hell were they getting
recognized?
“Fall Out Boy has talked about you guys on Twitter, so we checked out your
latest show, and you guys were awesome!” one of the girls exclaimed. “We really
like the sound you guys have, it’s kinda, like, retro? But fucking awesome, and
we love it, cause you’re all so awesome.”
“And Kaylee totally has a crush on Brendon,” the second girl giggled.
“Just Kaylee?” the teen boy cut in. “I have a crush on Brendon! Oh my god, and
Mikey!”
Ryan choked on his drink, because these people knew their names. Brendon was
handling this really fucking well, too, he was smiling and nodding along to the
rapid conversation between the three friends.
“I’d rather be crushing on Ryan as his husband,” Brendon giggled. The fans
didn’t really hear.
“No, but Mikey,” the boy gushed. He actually looked to Mikey. “Hi, hi, I-I’m
Jacob, and I fucking love your fingers. You have such good fingers, oh my
goodness. Do you have a girlfriend?”
Mikey arched a brow and held up Ray’s hand. “I actually have a husband.” He
kinda looked really fucking proud of that. The kid, Jacob, looked fucking ready
to faint.
“I’m so happy for you!” he shrieked in a high pitched tone. “I-I’m so, oh my
god! Congratulations! That’s amazing!”
Mikey smirked. “I fucking know it is.”
“Is that why you’re all dressed like this?” Kayla asked. “Oh my god, are you,
is this the afterparty? Of the wedding? Holy shit, we totally interrupted you
guys, oh my god, I am so sorry! Oh my god, thank you so much, we, we’ll go now,
sorry!”
“Don’t they want a picture?” Brendon asked Ryan.
The unnamed girl perked up. “Can we?”
Pete snorted and nudged Brendon under the table. “Let’s just do one group
photo, yeah? We can get the waitress to maybe take it for us.”
Frank waved down their waitress and once the picture was taken, the three kids
all said goodbye and Ryan turned to kiss Brendon softly, because he was fucking
proud of him, and Ray and Mikey were married and, just, fuck yeah.
. . .
March seventeenth was Saint Patrick’s day, and all they did was give Patrick
all this fucking shit about it.
“Wear green for Patrick!” Mikey cackled.
“Oh fuck, I don’t have any green,” Frank said. “He’s gonna kill me.”
“Patrick’s gonna kill us if we do this,” Ray corrected.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Josh reassured Frank. “I have an extra top hat, and as
long as he sacrifice the chocolate to him, it should be good.”
“He’s really going to kill us,” Ray insisted.
“Who cares?” Gerard asked with a giggled. “It’s fun!”
“And green is awesome,” Brendon agreed, pulling on a party hat covered with
green glitter. The bags were heavy under his eyes, and Ryan seemed to be the
only one who noticed. Either that, or everyone else was happy to pretend it
wasn’t happening. They were happy to pretend Brendon was getting slower on his
feet, or moving more stiffly, or yawning more often, or going to bed sooner and
getting less sleep. They were happy not to worry. Ryan didn’t blame them. They
were in LA and were supposed to be happy. Acknowledging something that wasn’t
happy was going to be the proverbial end of their streak.
“I really like green,” Brendon giggled as he wrapped a green scarf around his
neck. Then he grabbed those green sticker earrings that were shaped like
crescents and stars and hearts and stuck them on his earlobes, and then on his
cheekbones. “Oh my god, look at how pretty I am!Ryan, Ryan, look at me!”
Ryan looked at Brendon and smiled lovingly. He bent down and pecked Brendon’s
lips. “Gorgeous.”
Brendon darted forward, waving a bag of chocolate gold coins in his hand. “Let
us appease the Patrick whose Day it is, or, or whatever!”
Josh laughed and ran after him, obviously excited to have someone just as
excited as he was. “I’m gonna make Patrick want me dead! And, and it won’t be
hard, really, because Patrick wants a lot of people fucking dead, yeah? Totally
makes sense. He’ll want us dead if we show up as clones of Pete and offer an
orgy.”
“Oh god, can we do that?” Mikey asked. “I’d like to do that.”
Brendon giggled and took Ryan’s hand. “Let’s go have fun?”
Ryan looked at the bags under his eyes, the lines under his eyelids, and the
way his smile seemed tired. He wanted to help. He needed to help. But he also
needed to keep everything okay for everyone.
“Let’s have fun,” he murmured, ignoring the anxiety niggling away at his
stomach.
At the end of the day, Josh made them all sit down and start actually
transcribing the words and rhythms and notes Mikey and Ryan and Josh had come
up with. Brendon helped them fine-tune a few things, but he was becoming almost
lethargic. The lack of sleep was taking a told on him, and Ryan was worried.
Still, Brendon went to bed smiling, and that was all Ryan could ask for.
. . .
April first, Ryan woke up with nothing wrong, except that Brendon wasn’t beside
him in bed. There had been a note on the nightstand, saying that Josh had taken
Brendon shopping for a new guitar strap, because, apparently, Brendon’s already
owned eight guitar straps didn’t count. He was tired and bruised. Brendon had
kicked him really hard, several times, during his sleep.
Ryan sighed and went to take a shower. He had his eyes shut, enjoying the
warmth. He didn’t opened his eyes until he was into lathering the conditioner.
He wished he’d opened them sooner, because when he looked down and saw the
water at his feet were black, his stomach sunk. Ryan stumbled out of the shower
and looked to his reflection, seeing his hair was black.
“What the fuck,” he breathed.
Gerard barreled into the bathroom and snapped a picture. “He fucking did it!”
Gerard cheered.
Ryan tensed and tried not to get angry. He was tired. Very, very tired, and he
didn’t like black hair. Not on himself, that was. Gerard, sure, Frank, yeah,
Josh, absolutely, and definitely Pete. But not Ryan. Ryan didn’t look good with
black hair. And they’d dyed his fucking hair.
“What the fuck, Gee?” he asked tiredly.
Gerard giggled and pinched Ryan’s bare ass cheeks. “See you in a bit, RyRo,” he
said, before leaving the bathroom. Ryan grit his teeth and tried not to get too
fucking pissed, because, jesus, they were just having fun, right? They were
just having fun, and Ryan was just grumpy. Just fucking grumpy.
Ryan went and washed out all the black he could, and came out of the shower
with a faded dye job. The underneath of his nails was black, and so were parts
of his neck. He accidentally got his favorite towel stained with the black,
too. Ryan had woken up grumpy, and was becoming angry.
He went to the kitchen and poured some milk into his cereal, only to discovered
that the milk jug had been replaced with orange juice. He went to write “milk”
on the grocery list, and found that all the ink had been switch around. The
black pen had orange ink, the orange pen had pink ink, and so fucking on, and
so fucking forth. Everything was switched around and fucked up. The wrong socks
were bunched together, the pillows were in the wrong beds, and jesus fucking
christ, Ryan didn’t have OCD, but what the fuck was this?
Ryan almost threw a mug across the room, but didn’t, because he was a fucking
adult.
“Ryan!” Brendon explained as he ran into the house. “Look what I got for you!”
Ryan perked up a bit, excited to see Brendon. Until Brendon held out a collar,
a fucking dog collar.
“It’s cause Josh says you’re such a bitch,” Brendon giggled.
Fuck, Ryan knew it was supposed to be a joke. They said shit like that all the
time. It was just a friendly jab, or whatever, but Ryan was frustrated and
Brendon and never, ever called him something like that, and just, f-fuck…
Ryan actually began to tear up.
He quickly turned away from the door and wiped his eyes, sniffling, feeling
like a fucking failure. Brendon wasn’t mean like this. Ryan was just a fucking
pussy.
“It’s nice,” Ryan lied, calming down quickly before turning to face Brendon
again. He smiled, and it was a lie. “Dude, I didn’t even prepare. How’d you
know today was April Fools?” This wasn’t April Fools. This was just cruel.
“Josh told me,” Brendon giggled. “Come on, let’s go see the picture Gerard took
of you! I’ll bet it’s hilarious!”
Ryan felt crushed, but followed Brendon anyways.
. . .
Their third show had a full crowd, but Ryan was too tired to feel good about
that.
. . .
April ninth was Gerard’s birthday, and they didn’t do much. They celebrated the
makings of Gerard’s TV show, and shared a cake, traded simple gifts, and then
went to bed, but not after running to the beach. Brendon began to learn how to
swim and Josh and Frank nearly drowned each other.
Watching the sunset was when Ryan felt the most complete.
. . .
Bed was where it went wrong.
Brendon had never, ever slept walk before.
Ever.
And Ryan had always been so grateful for that, had always counted his
blessings, because, at the very fucking least, Brendon wasn’t sleepwalking. He
was lying in bed, where he couldn’t be hurt outside his bed, lying beside Ryan,
safe and fucking sound, thank god or whoever or whatever. Because Brendon
didn’t sleep walk.
Hadn’t slept walk.
Brendon hadn’t slept walk before.
So when Ryan woke up to the sound of glass shattering, and no one beside him,
his heart had stopped and his body couldn’t have stopped moving. Ryan had run
down the hall, down the stairs, yelling Brendon’s name. The glass tinkled and
Ryan got downstairs to see that the fucking glass backdoor was shattered,
fucking shattered, and Brendon was sitting on the floor, looking scared,
holding his shoulder that was bleeding, crying.
“Ryan?” Brendon cried. “I-it hurts.”
“Jesus,” Ryan choked out. He scramble for the first aid kid in the kitchen and
pulled out the pliers. He fell to his knees in front of Brendon and took
Brendon’s shoulder in his gentle hands, pulling a shard of glass from Brendon’s
shoulder. “Jesus, baby, jesus, what happened? When did you get up? What
happened, baby?”
“I-I don’t know,” he sobbed. “I w-woke up here. Why am I here? Did you take me
out of bed?”
“I didn’t, baby, I didn’t take you anywhere, I didn’t take you,” Ryan almost
babbled. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s get this washed up and bandaged, and then we can
get you back to bed, okay?”
Brendon nodded wordlessly, staring at the blood that trickled down his arm.
Ryan pulled Brendon up by his good arm and brought him to the downstairs
bathroom. He turned on the shower and steered Brendon under the spray, cleaning
away the blood and picking out the rest of the glass. There had only been three
shards inside, and not much else, not even little sprinklings of glass. Ryan
was relieved, and none of the gashes were deep. Nothing had gone more than a
millimeter deep. Ryan doused it with hydrogen peroxide and answered Brendon’s
questions as the chemical bubbled. He wrapped it in sticky gauze and then just
stared.
Brendon had been hurt while sleepwalking.
Brendon.
Brendon had been hurt.
And Brendon was sleepwalking.
Ryan carefully ran a hand through Brendon’s hair. The boy looked scared, just
so fucking scared. He was almost seventeen, but Ryan knew the boy was still
just a kid.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Brendon went up on his toes to kiss Ryan chastely. “Th-thank you.”
Josh wandered into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “What happened?” he asked
sleepily. He saw the blood on Brendon’s clothes and quickly woke up. “Wait,
what? What happened?” Josh looked out into the kitchen/living room area. “… Is
our door broken?”
“I accidentally tripped and Brendon fell into it,” Ryan lied.
Brendon shook his head. “N-no, no, that didn’t happen. Why’d you lie?”
Ryan winced. “I-I don’t know if you want Josh to know,” he whispered.
Brendon bit his lip, then nodded. “I-I woke up with the door broken,” he told
Josh. Ryan took that as his go. He turned around and mouthed, “sleepwalking,”
to the other man. Josh grimaced and nodded.
“Wanna get back to bed, B?” Josh offered.
Brendon shook his head.
“Okay,” Josh murmured. “Uh, wanna watch a Disney movie?”
Brendon perked up, then nodded. “Lady and the Tramp?”
Probably the thousandth time Brendon had seen that movie, so Ryan and Josh both
smiled fondly.
“Sure thing, kiddo,” Josh said. “Let’s crash the couch.”
“I’ll make popcorn,” Ryan said.
“No, you won’t,” Josh interrupted. “You’re gonna go back to bed and get some
sleep. Like, for real.”
Ryan opened his mouth to protest, but Josh interrupted him.
“Dude, you’re exhausted,” Josh sighed. “You need sleep, and that’s it. You
haven’t slept well in almost a month and it’s really beginning to fuck you up.
You broke a mug a few days ago, and you didn’t even notice. I picked it up and
you just wandered away.”
Ryan frowned. “When was that?”
“April Fools,” Josh said. He pursed his lips. “Hey, B?” he called out. “Why
don’t you get that movie started so I can talk to Ryan?”
Brendon looked kinda nervous, but nodded obediently. “I’ll, I’ll have it ready
for when you come back.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” Josh hummed. Brendon ducked his head and shuffled past. Josh
sighed and moved forward to shut the shower off, then sat on the edge of the
tub. Ryan sat on the toilet, resigning himself to whatever this was going to
be.
“What’s wrong, Ry?” Josh asked softly.
“Brendon was sleepwalking,” Ryan said. “I, I don’t know what else you’re
looking for.”
“You’re tired,” Josh murmured. “Like, very tired. As in, I’m worried for your
health, tired. Ryan, before-he-tried-to-fucking-hill-himself, tired.”
Ryan grimaced.
“I’m serious,” Josh sighed. “Just, Ryan. You’re really fucked up right now, and
I’m worried. Gerard’s worried, too, everyone kinda is.”
“I haven’t noticed,” Ryan said lamely.
“Yeah, cause you’re too tired to even look past Brendon. Ryan, the bags under
your eyes have their own bags. You’re kinda sluggish and you don’t talk like
you used to. You looked really upset April Fool’s day, and today, you wished
Gerard happy birthday, and then asked why we had a cake with Gerard’s name on
it not even an hour later.”
“So I’m a little tired?” Ryan asked with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m hurting
anyone.”
“Except yourself.”
Ryan looked away, not responding.
Josh sighed again. “Does that make sense to you? That we care. Look, this can
be a really easy conversation, you know? Just, like, tell me what’s keeping you
awake at night. That’s all I need to know. You stopped taking that anti-anxiety
stuff a long time ago, we know, we even encouraged it. I just want to know if
we should consider putting you back on it.”
“No thanks,” he said. “All that’s happening is…”
Josh waited for Ryan to finish. “Yeah?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Brendon’s just been having a nightmare
basically every night. I’m tired, you know? Very, very tired. I can usually
soothe him out of it. I can always make the nightmare, like, taper off, so he
doesn’t even wake up. And then I stay up a bit longer to make sure the
nightmare doesn’t reoccur. It’s just me being careful, okay? All I’m doing is
making sure he gets the sleep he needs.”
“What about the sleep you need?” Josh countered.
“I get plenty of sleep,” Ryan lied. “I stop the nightmare, get up at six, get
shit ready, go over Brendon’s reading and writing, then we’ve got band practice
whenever, and then you go to work, and I just show Brendon new things. You know
that’s what we do.”
“You’re being a bullshitter and you don’t get enough sleep,” Josh deadpanned.
“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight. I’m gonna hang out with Brendon and we’re
gonna watch a shitload of Disney movies, and you’re gonna sleep until fucking
dinner tomorrow, okay?”
Ryan pursed his lips. 

“Fucking okay, Ryan?”
Ryan really was tired.
He sighed and got up. “I’ll go to bed,” he murmured, heading to Josh’s room. He
lingered, looking back down the hall to where Brendon was sitting on the couch.
He was envious of them. Ryan wanted to be on that couch between Brendon and
Josh, watching some Disney movie about dogs and pasta. But as he moved, Ryan
hit a wall. A literal wall..
Ryan looked up at the hallway door with a sort of droopy-eyed acceptance that
the wall had always ben there, and that he really did need sleep.
“Night, guys,” he said as Josh walked past him. “Love you.”
Josh waved. ‘Get some sleep, Ry. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Ryan dropped onto Josh’s bed and passed out.
. . .
April twelfth was Brendon’s birthday.
Brendon’s first birthday where it would be celebrated.
Brendon wanted to celebrate in Chicago and Ryan had no fucking clue as to why,
but it was Brendon’s first actual birthday, so who was Ryan to say no?
“I’ve missed this place,” Mikey said as he stepped off the plane next to Ryan.
Josh was trailing behind with Brendon, answering every single question Brendon
threw at him about planes and about flying, even if he had to lie about a few
answers. “The weather is a good break from LA humidity. I mean, fuck, I love
LA. But Chicago is home.”
Ryan just nodded and looked around. The airport looked the same as before. He
was happy they weren’t visiting during a calendar holiday. This place was
crowded enough as it was. But he knew the decorations and the layout and it
wasn’t as bad as LAX. He could navigate this place easily, and it did feel like
home, as long as he ignored the lingering memories of shittier times.
“I like it here,” Brendon announced, bouncing forward, but it still didn’t make
sense.
“We’ve got two rooms at the Drake,” Ray said as he got out of the hall. He was
looking over a map in his hands, and Ryan wasn’t sure why. “Mikey and I are
gonna check out a boat and see the coast of Chicago. Josh is gonna see Tyler
and shit, and we’re all gonna meet up for dinner, okay? So Ryan and Brendon are
free to have their fun. We’re gonna all celebrate later.”
“Too bad Gee had that thing for his show,” Mikey sighed. “He would’ve wanted to
be here for Beebo’s birthday bash.”
“Beebo’s birthday bash,” Brendon repeated with a giggle.
“Wait, I thought we were all gonna be together?” Ryan asked. “Like, isn’t that
what this is?”
“Brendon has his own plans,” Josh said dismissively. “I gotta go see my diaper
buddy.”
“Don’t call it that,” Ryan groaned.
Josh giggled and kissed Ryan’s cheek. “Seeya, guys. Give me a call and let me
know where we’re going.”
“Seeya,” Mikey said. He licked Ryan’s cheek— actually licked it, like, a stripe
up Ryan’s cheek— and pulled Ray with him. Ray waved goodbye and put a box
wrapped in card paper in Ryan’s hand.
“Early birthday present for Brendon,” Ray explained before he was gone.
Ryan frowned.
“Let’s go to the hotel,” Brendon said nonchalantly. “I’d like a nap.”
Ryan thought nothing of it. “Let’s grab a cab.”
The hotel was fucking gorgeous, and Mikey and Ray had room right next door to
theirs. Josh was going to stay with Tyler for the weekend that they were
visiting. Everything was modern and satin and Ryan could taste how expensive it
was. Jesus, he kept forgetting how fucking successful Gerard had become in the
last year alone. Ryan was so fucking proud go him.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Brendon said, tossing his bag at the foot of the
bed and going into the bathroom. Ryan marveled at how well he’d adapted, how
far he had come. Ryan was also so fucking proud of Brendon.
Ryan sighed and put his own bag next to Brendon’s, lying on the mattress. He
stared up at the stucco ceiling and hummed softly to himself. The shower was
running, but he didn’t think much of it. Brendon tended to enjoy showers, and
would always tell Ryan if he’d gotten a new shampoo or something other hair
product. Ryan enjoyed it.
Ryan was also very tired. After Josh had forced him to catch up ten hours, Ryan
had been sleeping like the dead more and more, but it was never enough. Before
Ryan was aware of it, he’d drifted off, lying on his back, face up.
When he came to, Brendon was standing between Ryan’s knees. He had a hand cloth
wrapped around his waist, and Ryan made a mental note to check if they even had
towels in the bathroom.
“Hey, Ryan,” Brendon said. “Do you know the legal age of sexual consent in the
state of Illinois?”
Ryan’s brain went blank. “Huh?”
“It’s seventeen,” Brendon replied with a grin. “The legal age of Illinois is
seventeen. Specifically, the legal age of Chicago is seventeen.”
Ryan watched him.
Brendon paused before dropping the towel. “I’m consenting,” he said. “I’m
legal. There’s no reason we can’t both do what we both want.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Ryan mumbled, eyes moving down
Brendon’s body slowly, taking it all in. He could barely see Brendon’s ribs
anymore. Brendon’s stomach was smooth and flat. He’d filled out and toned down
and was fucking gorgeous. He’d started running with Ray whenever Ray got the
willpower, and had cut his hair like Brendon had seen in the magazines— really
short at the sides and big and bouncy on the top, because it drew attention to
Brendon, and Brendon loved to draw attention to himself.
Point was, Brendon was naked in front of him, and he looked good. He always
looked good, but jesus christ, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He looked so fucking
good. Ryan could feel himself getting hard, straining against his jeans
already, feeling so fucking out of control. He whimpered and tangled his
fingers in the blankets, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to taste
blood.
“Oh god, baby,” Ryan said. “God, god, god, baby, god, oh fuck,” and he was
totally babbling, he was fucking babbling, and it was totally pathetic, but
jesus, if couldn’t stop staring, he couldn’t fucking believe that he’d been
denying himself that for so fucking long. It wasn’t fair to himself. It wasn’t
fair to anyone. “Baby, you’re so pretty,” he moaned. “So fucking gorgeous, look
at yourself, look at you, baby, fucking look at you.” He shut his eyes and
tugged at his hair, battling every inner demon like he’d never fought before.
“I’m seventeen, Ryan,” Brendon said softly. “And I want you.”
Ryan shuddered and covered his face with his hands, breathing slowly. Then he
nodded.
He felt Brendon begin to tug off Ryan’s pants and his heart began to fucking
race. He kicked his legs up to help and tugged off his shirt, kinda in
autopilot, unable to process what was happening. He’d waited and denied himself
this for so long that he didn’t know what to do once it was happening. Jesus,
the others had to have known, especially Josh. Why else would they have all be
so eager to make themselves scarce?
“Ryan?” Brendon murmured. “Can you please open your eyes?”
Ryan pulled his hands from his face and looked down his body.
Brendon was sitting in his lap. In his actual lap. With Brendon’s dick standing
with Ryan’s, jesus fucking fucker fuck. Ryan could see the way Brendon’s cock
was oozing, literally fucking dripping cum, and he guessed Brendon would last
all of ten seconds after Ryan finally touch him. Ryan honestly didn’t care, he
was going to fucking touch Brendon. He was going to touch Brendon.
Brendon smiled shyly and squirmed. “Is this okay?”
“How are you real?” Ryan asked breathlessly. “You’re just, you’re so beautiful…
So fucking gorgeous.”
Brendon blushed and smiled wider. “Yeah?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan said, reaching out to hold Brendon’s hips. He ran his thumbs
in slow circles around the hipbone corners and just reveled in Brendon and
everything he was. “How did I ever become so lucky?” he asked reverently.
Brendon smiled his brightest and leaned down, kissing Ryan shortly. His spine
as curled and Ryan could see he was still really nervous, he was shielding his
body from Ryan’s view, and jesus, how could he be shy? How could he be anything
but in love with himself? Ryan was in love with him. Everyone was in love with
him. He couldn’t understand not loving Brendon.
“Lemme see you,” he almost begged.
Brendon sat back up hesitantly, and Ryan rose up off the bed to meet him,
wrapping his arms around Brendon’s torso and placing a kiss to his neck. He
could feel something damp against his stomach and just knew, fucking knew, that
Brendon was gonna cum faster than lightning.
“Not all the way,” Ryan said, wanting to make the decision because he also knew
Brendon would be too tired to do much else after Ryan did this. “I want you to
just let me take care of you, okay, baby? Let me show you how good it can
feel.” Ryan rubbed up and down Brendon’s back, pulling him gently into his body
in short, rhythmic push and pulls. He kinda just wanted Brendon to rub off on
his stomach, because then he was also rubbing off on Brendon’s thigh.
Brendon, though, pulled away with a shake of his head. “I, I have lube and
everything. Josh told me what to do, and Mikey also got us condoms.”
Ryan felt his heart clench fucking painfully and nodded. “You’re gonna fuck
me,” he said, jut skimming over how his sexual ex was providing his soulmate
with the means to get down and dirty with Ryan.
Brendon smiled shakily and nodded. “Yeah. I-I’d like to.”
Ryan shut his eyes against and stared into the darkness, struggling to control
himself. “… If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right,” he dictated
firmly. “You’re going to do as I say so neither of us get hurt, okay? I mean, I
don’t think I’m gonna get hurt, and I definitely won’t hurt you, but I want
this to be perfect. I want this to be us and I want this to be so good that you
won’t hesitate in wanting it again. Okay?”
Brendon grinned nervously and nodded.
“Okay,” Ryan said. “Grab that lube and fucking drown your hand in it, okay?
We’re gonna do this thing called prep. I honestly don’t expect either of us to
last more than five seconds, so no foreplay. We can save that for next time.”
“Next time,” Brendon repeated breathlessly. He grabbed the bottle and squirted
a healthy amount onto his fingers, though he frowned. “Cold…”
“Rub it between your hands to warm it up,” Ryan suggested as he situated
pillows under his hips so Brendon’s knees wouldn’t be so fucked up. Ryan turned
over onto his stomach, bent over the pillows, and tried not to feel so exposed.
He wished he could face Brendon, but this would give Brendon much more
confidence in his movements. “When you think it’s ready, I want you to sit on
your knees between my legs and just… f-feel.” Ryan was kinda pissed he was
nervous enough to stutter, but he also got that this was a rather nerve-
wracking experience.
Also, he was gonna get fucked by fucking Brendon.
He felt the bed dip as Brendon settled between his legs and took in a calming
breath, but immediately tensed when he felt Brendon’s hands in-between the
cheeks of his ass, jesus.
“Is this the hole I’m supposed to go into?” Brendon asked. Ryan whined when
Brendon started to poke his fingertips against Ryan’s entrance. “Feels warm.
Looks really tight. How does anyone fit anything in here? This is where you
poop.”
“Stop fucking talking, oh my god,” Ryan choked out. “Stellar observation, we,
we don’t talk about that when we’re about to have sex.”
“Sorry,” Brendon giggled. “I’m gonna wiggle my finger in there.”
The verbal warning still wasn’t warning enough when Brendon actually fucking
wiggled his finger inside, squirming the digit and it felt so fucking weird to
have such inexperienced movements in such a sensitive and fragile part of his
body.
“You’re so tight,” Brendon murmured, sounding different. Ryan wished he could
see his face. “My… I’m going in here?”
Ryan nodded, clenching his teeth. The more Brendon moved his finger, the more
Ryan could relax. It was definitely not an easy fit, especially since it had
been half a year since Ryan and been like this with anyone. “Slowly,” he said,
his fingers digging into the sheets. He let Brendon explore for a few more
minutes before taking in and letting out a long breath. “Add a second finger.”
Brendon did so, and Ryan winced at the stretch. He thanked god that Brendon was
perfectly below average when it came to his physical endowment, and new only
three fingers would be necessary. And though this definitely wasn’t fun yet,
the touch of Brendon’s legs to Ryan’s inner thighs and the soft friction from
the sheets beneath his hips kept his erection strong. Brendon fumbled his way
through a third finger.
“Okay,” Ryan breathed, nodding. “Okay, okay, okay. Take your fingers out.”
Brendon did just that and wiped them on the bed, which was, admittedly, fucking
nasty. Ryan made a mental note to take the sheet cover over and just sleep on a
fucking blanket.
“Get the lube again and make your cock really, really fucking wet,” he said.
“Seriously, there is no such think as too much lube.” He heard the cap pop
again and listened to the wet sounds of Brendon slicking up his cock, but began
to get a little confused when, nearly a whole fucking minute later, Brendon was
still going. When Brendon finally stopped, Ryan had to ask, “everything okay?”
“I used the whole bottle,” Brendon said sheepishly.
Ryan turned his face into the sheets and tried to get over how fucking perfect
Brendon was, jesus fucking christ on a fucking stick, fucking fuck.
“So, d-do I put it in now?” Brendon asked. “The hole looks, like, ready. It
doesn’t look as tight.” Ryan could hear Brendon’s voice was a little strained.
“It felt good in there… Can I put it in now? Please?” That strain was
definitely arousal. Ryan money softly at the edge of desperation to Brendon’s
plea.
“Go for it,” he said after turning his head to the side. “Do it, baby. I’m all
yours. Take your time and take it slow. We have all the time in the world. No
expectations.” He was proud of himself for sounding so collected when his heart
was going faster than the speed of fucking anything, ever. He felt Brendon put
his hands on Ryan’s hips and shuddered, shutting his eyes for a third time. He
wouldn’t be able to see Brendon during this anyways, and while it was a bit
disheartening, his need to make Brendon comfortable with all of this
overpowered his own fickle desires. Plus, it wasn’t like this was going to be
the first and only time they did this.
“I-I’m gonna do it,” Brendon warned him. Ryan really fucking appreciated this
warning pattern Brendon had going. Especially when the head of Brendon’s dick
actually breached the ring of muscle and punched the fucking air from Ryan’s
lungs. His spine went rigid and Ryan reacted almost erratically, pushing back
into the intrusion with his knees while pulling himself up the bed with his
hands. A sound escaped his lips that he never knew he could make and Brendon
was just fucking babbling, incoherent and impossible to understand.
Ryan’s heart stopped the moment Brendon was buried completely inside his body,
and het let out a broken noise of absolute bliss.
“R-Ryan?” Brendon called out in a strangled tone. He sounded so fucking fucked.
“I-I-I don’t think I c-can…” Ryan felt that Brendon’s hips were stuttering
uncontrollably and a wave of something fucking awesome flooded through his body
when he realized Brendon was already so close.
“C’mon, baby,” he soothed, practically breaking his arm to reach back and hold
Brendon’s hand. “You can do it,” he only barely got out. “L-let go.”
He felt a flood of warmth fill every crevice inside and inwardly cursed when he
realized they’d forgotten the condom. The Brendon made a long noise of ecstasy
and slumped against Ryan’s back. The sudden drop dragged Brendon’s cock across
Ryan’s prostate and he came abruptly, eyes going wide in shock at how sudden
his orgasm had hit him.
Brendon was limp across Ryan’s back, his entire front plastered to Ryan’s back
on. Ryan felt sated and warm and Brendon wasn’t heavy enough to make this
position even mildly uncomfortable. He could feel Brendon’s cock gradually
begin to soften inside him and smiled to himself.
“I’d offer up a round two, but I think you need a nap first,” he teamed Brendon
softly.
Brendon giggled and squirmed happily in Ryan’s lap. “I love you.”
Ryan hummed and squeezed Brendon’s hand. “I love you too.”
. . .
“You wanna know what’s more tragic than one person wearing two, matching
friendship bracelets?” Josh asked Ryan on May fourth. “The fact that your
fucking boyfriend has never seen Star Wars.”
Ryan snorted. “Is that really such a bad thing?”
Josh looked like he wanted to punch Ryan in the face repeatedly. “Are you
kidding?” he shot back.
Ryan sighed, understanding pretty clearly. “Okay, so no band practice today.
We’ll just watch all six.”
“Six?” Josh blanked. “Four. I accept one episodes four, five, and six, and then
one.”
He had to ask. “Why one?”
“Because it adequately shows the origins of Obi’Wan and Anakin,” Josh huffed.
“But only adequately. It’s acceptable, you know? I accept it as a form of
canon. Clone Wars had cool fight scenes and that was it. Sit Brendon on the
couch and educate this boy.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, but did just that, not expecting much.
Brendon fucking loved it.
“I wanna learn Wookie!” Brendon shouted, bounding around the room. It was
nearly two A.M. and he was the only one awake. “And I’m a Skywalker now! B-
jroom! Joom, jee-ooh, joom! Vrrrrmmmm! Wrrrrmmm-vroom! Thought I’m not a Jedi,
cause then I can’t marry Ryan!”
Ryan was almost passed out on the couch with his hand on Gerard’s stomach and
his entire arm wedged between the sofa and Gerard’s spine. He and Gee were the
only two left, everyone else had tapped out during Empire Strikes Back and
Gerard had fallen asleep during Return of the Jedi. Ryan hadn’t had to the
heart to move him even though hand was falling asleep.
“Ryan, Ryan, I need a lightsaber!” Brendon gasped. He climbed over the back of
the couch and dropped into Ryan’s lap, skillfully avoiding ramming his knees
into anything sensitive. “I need a lightsaber, Ryan,” he said again, giggling.
“And then I need to fuck you again.”
Ryan’s brow shot sky high and Gerard suddenly let out this alarmed, choked
noise.
“I’m awake,” Gerard wheezed. “Awake, awake, d-don’t fuck, I’m awake. Oh my god,
let, jesus, please not on my couch. I like this couch, it’s a good couch,
sturdy couch, Frank’s favorite place to ride me cause he likes thinking we
could get caught. Please don’t fuck on my couch.”
Brendon pouted and squirmed, actually grinding his ass into Ryan’s crotch, and
jesus, that felt fucking amazing. It felt so good and Ryan knew that this was
dangerous, so fucking dangerous, because Ryan was going to cum in his pants on
Gerard’s couch after being specifically told not to.
But jesus, Brendon was such a pretty picture.
“But I’m horny,” Brendon said bluntly, and Ryan didn’t know where Brendon had
learned that word. “Gee, why can’t we have a little fun? I’m his boyfriend. You
and Frank are so horny and all you do is have sex. Why can’t Ryan and I?”
“Because this is my sex couch and I’ve asked you nicely?” Gerard said with a
hopeful smile.
Brendon pouted. “… Fine.”
Ryan groaned in a disappointment and Brendon giggled.
. . .
“So, I’m starting a record label,” Pete said with a grin. “Fall Out Boy has
done so fucking well,” and Ryan knew that was true, because with the latest two
albums, Fall Out Boy had been invited to award shows and actually reviewed
awards and been on talk shows and were internationally renown and Ryan was so
fucking jealous. “I’ve got a record label and I’m signing you guys.”
Ryan faltered. “We, we don’t even have a band name.”
“What?” Pete asked, frowning. “You totally do. What have you guys been going
as?”
“Pet Salamander,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “I mean, Brendon and I had a name
we liked but I never ran it by Mikey and Josh.”
“What is it?” Pete asked, obviously curious. “I mean, it’s gotta be good. I’m
not signing you guys cause you’re my friends, I’m signing you guys because
you’re super talented and I wanna give you guys a boost.”
“An you wanna make money off of us,” Ryan replied.
Pete waved him off. “Whatever. What was the name?”
“Panic! at the Disco,” Ryan said almost shyly. He felt a bit self conscious
saying the name aloud to anyone other than Brendon. Panic! at the Disco could
sound really fucking weird to just about anyone.
“Dude, that rocks,” Pete said with a grin. “I like it. Use that one. Mikey’s
gonna jizz his pants and Josh is gonna go all burlesque. Go with that name.”
Ryan smiled wryly. “You’re really signing us?”
“Hell yeah!” Pete laughed. “Fucking yeah, then I can tour with you guys with no
questions necessary! Just gotta get an album going and shit, and dude, I’ve
already got people on a board and they’re with me. They’ve been to your shows.
It’s gonna be so good.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Ryan said softly, knowing this was a big deal. “I’m lucky to
know you.”
“I’m lucky to say I’ve seen Ryan Ross in his underwear,” Pete shot back with a
wink. “Keep making music, man. It’s what you were born to do. Fuck psychology,
you know? You’ve paid your dues and you’re done. Brendon’s fine. It’s all
good.”
. . .
“I don’t like Mother’s Day,” Brendon told Ryan softly as he curled against
Ryan’s side, pressing his bare body against Ryan’s partially clothed body. They
hadn’t had sex, just enjoyed with over-the-clothes heavy petting, Brendon just
really, really liked being nude.
“My mother always made me feel like being a monster for being born on Mother’s
Day,” Brendon told Ryan sadly. “I, I know she’s messed up. I just wish she’d
loved me.”
Ryan sighed and nodded. “My mother was very much the same. I didn’t know her
for long, but when I did, she was cold. Very rigid and unhappy and mean. She
didn’t like me at all and she wasn’t afraid to make it obvious to me and my
dad. She didn’t like anyone.” Ryan paused. “…You know that song I wrote? Time
to Dance?’
Brendon nodded.
“It’s about my parents,” he told Brendon sadly. “They didn’t want me. My mother
was a diva and wanted to be famous and stuff and my dad just wanted to get
laid. But they were drunk and she got pregnant and her dad made my dad marry
her. Shotgun wedding, you know? And she never let it go, for either of us. I
know my dad was horrible, but… I, I can’t imagine marrying a woman as fucking
cruel and downright evil as her.”
Brendon nodded again. “We’re both broken, aren’t we?”
Ryan hesitated before answering. “I think being broken isn’t a bad thing,” he
said carefully. “I think that going through life without collecting a few scars
is a life being wasted. I mean, a rapper said something like it, named Watsky.”
Ryan really liked Watsky. “Uh, show…” Ryan poked his tongue out as he thought,
then pulled out his phone before reciting the lyrics.
“Show me somebody who’s got no baggage, and I’ll show you somebody who’s got no
story. Nothing gory means no glory, so baby, please don’t bore me.” Ryan smiled
softly in the dark. “I like that. He’s good.”
“You should show me that song later,” Brendon told him. Ryan could tell he was
fishing for a distraction from memories of his mother.
“It’s really something else,” Ryan said. “Watsky writes some of the most
amazing lyrics and he raps really well. He’s kinda awesome and I think it would
be amazing to have someone like him write a song for me.”
Brendon was really quiet. “H-have you ever written something about me?”
Ryan was also quiet for a moment. “A little,” he said. “A few songs. Some of
them are great. Some of them are shit. Some of them I won’t ever share with
anyone but you, really.”
“Can I hear one of those?”
Ryan nodded. He reached under the mattress and pulled out a worn little
notebook. It was one of many at this point, and more than half of the words in
there would be trashed. Brendon wanted to hear a few words, so Ryan was going
to share a few words.
“Uh, what kind of words do you want?” Ryan asked.
“Something from before we met,” Brendon murmured. “Something… back when I was
being cruel.”
“Why would you want to hear stuff from them?”
Brendon shrugged. “Would you?”
Ryan pursed his lips, scanning the pages after turning on the nightstand light,
finding a really old piece. Half the time it hardly even rhymed, but Ryan liked
it.
He took in a breath, before reading, “And if you sing loud enough the world
will wake, and you’ve got the best voice in town. I’ll stay with you till you
fall asleep, phone forgotten on the ground. Maybe one day you’ll look at me
like I’m the stranger you know best, and I’ll wait for the day you say you want
to see me again. I’ll always be with you, but you won’t always be with me. And
when you’re done letting me help you rewrite the rules of what these pills can
do, it’ll be just me and the sea. I’ll shut my eyes and count to three and
forget how to swim.”
Brendon let out this soft noise of sadness. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s in the past,” Ryan told him, putting the book away. “Get some sleep,
love.”
. . .
Brendon slept walked again that night.
He didn’t break a door, but he did hit the floor really hard when trying to go
down the stairs. Brendon had made the whole set before tripping at the last
two. Luckily, his body was so fucking relaxed that he’d only had a bruise on
his elbow the next morning.
Still.
Ryan went back to his old Psych notes to find a way to fix this.
He knew Brendon didn’t want to sleep downstairs, but Ryan realized he could put
a lock on the door. He didn’t want to risk sleeping medication because it could
just make it more difficult to wake Brendon up form the spell. Therapy was out
of the question and Brendon was refusing to tell Ryan what was happening in the
dream, so Ryan bought a lock and crossed his fingers.
. . .
They had another show, another fucking show, and Pete had invited all of the
board members of whoever to listen.
Brendon announced himself and the others as Panic! at the Disco, their new
official name.
They were signed to Decaydence the next morning.
Jesus.
. . .
June eighteenth was Josh’s birthday.
He came home from his forced shopping trip talking about a girl.
Originally, he’d been sent away under a faux need for printer paper for Gerard.
He’d gone with a raised brow, and the rest of the family had scrambled to
decorate the place for his surprise birthday party. Because out of everyone
they had all know, Josh had been the first true outsider to make himself and
insider so quickly. Everyone was just so in love with Josh and the way he acted
and made people smile that they put everything they had into this birthday,
especially Brendon, Josh and Brendon were like crossed fingers, so fucking good
together. Ryan was more than infinitely and eternally grateful to him. He just,
yeah. He loved and needed Josh.
But anyways, Josh came home talking about a girl.
“Her name is Ashley,” Josh gushed. “She, she has blue hair and has such pretty
lips and a nice smile, and, just, wow, Ryan.” He giggled, blushing. “Wow.”
Ryan kinda stood there, lips pursed. “So you’re just ignoring the streamers?”
Josh looked a bit confused. The his eyes caught sight of what was behind Ryan,
and gasped, covering his mouth with his hands, even tearing up. Ryan was a bit
shocked by how emotional he was suddenly displaying.
“Holy shit,” Josh breathed. “You guys, you, you did all of this for me?” He
pulled his hands away to reveal he was smiling. “Oh my god, this is amazing!
Holy crap, I, I’ve never had a surprise party before, Jesus!” He giggled,
ducking his head with a bashful expression. “Kinda just figured that you guys
had forgotten.”
“Like we could do that,” Frank scoffed, finally stepping forward and snapping a
child’s crown on Josh’s head. “The man of the hour! We have awaited you for
many a millennium, and celebrate your return! And this new bonnie lass is a
welcome surprise!”
“Pirate and royal emissary don’t mix,” Mikey said. “Josh, we got you presents
and cake and ruined our house with all this fucking decor for at least twenty-
four hours, all for you. There is no possible universe out there that could
exist where we could, god forbid, gorget your fucking birthday.”
“Except there is!” Brendon cut in gleefully. “I, I learned about it yesterday!
On the internet! There, there are an infinite amount of universes filled with
infinite possibilities! Everything exists! Every decision, every weird word,
every possible outcome of anything! And even weirder! Everything exists!”
“So doesn’t that mean that there’s also a universe where all those universes
don’t exist?” Ray countered with a playful grin. “Doesn’t that mean these
universes don’t exist as well?”
Brendon’s face fell into something more confused. “Oh.”
“I’m just gonna pretend I understood,” Pete chuckled. “How about we slice the
cake and hear all about this blue haired girl? I feel like a little distraction
would be nice, even if we don’t need to be distracted from anything, really,
because life is pretty fucking sweet now.” To make his pun apparent, Pete
dragged an icing-covered fingertip down Patrick’s nose. “Pretty, fucking,
sweet.”
“Keep that up, and I’ll shove that cake knife up your ass,” Patrick griped
rather bluntly.
Josh giggled and took Ryan and Brendon’s hands, pulling them to the table. “I’m
so excited to see what awesome gifts you guys got me on this mandatory day of
giving to a singular person because, apparently, that’s how you show gratitude
to someone having sex and then giving birth to a particular person.”
“Suck all the fun out of it, why don’t you?” Ryan said sarcastically.
Josh kissed Ryan’s cheek and sat down in front of the cake. “All of you are
amazing,” he told them. “Like, sincerely. I mean it. I never thought you guys
would do this for me, so it’s kinda awesome that you did. I just, I really
appreciate it. You guys are my best friends on the west coast.”
Pete giggled and smeared icing over Josh’s nose.
. . .
It was father’s day, and Pete had them in the studio, recording their album.
Except they were on lunch break and not recording at all.
“A meteor is coming to earth and you have five hours to live,” Pete began.
“What do you do?”
Ryan hummed softly to himself, having thought of the answer a long time ago in
a philosophy course. He was happy to say the answer hadn’t changed. “I’d find
all my friends, or at least, the ones who want to spend their final hours with
me. We’d go to the highest place in the city and we’ll watch the meteor come
but pretend it’s not a meteor, just a shooting star. We’ll talk about how
pretty it is and then plan out what we’re gonna do the next day, if we want to
go out or anything. Talk about the concert we have tickets for. Lie to
ourselves until it’s over and just be happy. And no one would be allowed to
think about dying. Only about the life they’d lived.”
Pete grinned. “You’re made of magic, Ryan Ross.”
Ryan snorted, rolling his eyes. “And you’re made of cyanide, brake fluid, and
chlorine. One fucking explosion of fire.”
“I fucking love that,” Pete giggled. “Put that on my headstone.”
“Headstone?” Brendon repeated. “Like, like the thing on your grave? Why would
you want words on there? Isn’t it sad?”
“It’s only sad if you let it be,” Josh told Brendon patiently. “Death can be
seen as a sort of blessing if you treat it like that. A celebration of the life
a person lived, rather than the mourning of loss. Like Ryan said, you can enjoy
having lived rather than regret what you didn’t have or didn’t do or whatever.
Death can be whatever you want it to be.”
“I don’t want to die if it means Ryan can’t come with,” Brendon said.
Josh grinned. “Then you’re in luck! Tons of people think you can bring your
soulmate into the next life with you.” Ryan was wondering why Josh was saying
all of this, because they’d shared their ideas that death was the actual end
years ago. “You’re gonna be with Ryan forever.”
Oh.
Josh was totally saying this for Brendon’s comfort.
Ryan fucking loved Josh.
He smiled gratefully to Josh from over Brendon’s head and, once again, thanked
whatever was up there that he had Josh.
. . .
The fourth of fucking July.
Brendon was officially in love with fireworks. He had darted to and fro under
the bright lights at the ocean, tripping over people and animals and waving
sparklers around and cheering and hollering and singing around with the various
radios scattered between beach towels. Ryan had jogged after him, apologizing
to the people Brendon had tripped over, though none of them were in bad
spirits, luckily. He’d chased after Brendon relentlessly, smiling and laughing,
and when he’d finally caught up, he’d tackled Brendon to the sand and kissed
him into the beach once they’d rounded back to their own viewing spot.
“They’re really cute,” Halsey told Josh in a soft voice. When they’d all first
met the girl that Josh was so fucking smitten with, she’d introduced herself as
Ashley. Until she’d met Frank. Meeting Frank had been all she needed to be
exposed to to learn that they were all a bunch of fucking weirdos who didn’t
care about anything but sex and simple creation, and had reintroduced herself
as Halsey.
Josh looked like he was showing them the coolest lady since Betty White with
better posture and less wrinkles and Ryan really prayed that they would last.
He was curious as to why Halsey wasn’t with her soulmate, and knew that it was
way too early to ask. He wondered if Josh knew yet.
“You said that they only met a year ago?” Halsey asked Josh as she scratched
Josh’s scalp with both hands, basically massaging his head. Josh was
practically purring.
“Brendon didn’t have good parents,” he sighed blissfully. “Ryan got a doctorate
for him.”
“Doctorate?” Halsey grinned. “Dr. Ross. You guys should call him that more
often. Makes him seem a lot more refined than some hippie greaser with the
sarcastic streak of a painfully horny priest being asked if celibacy was
difficult.”
“That one is shaped like a heart!” Brendon shouted, breaking the kiss with Ryan
to point up at the sky. Ryan was staring down at the boy, watching the way the
colors lit his skin up like a kaleidoscope. It was breathtaking and mind-
altering, to see the lights explode in the reflection of Brendon’s eyes.
He’d waited long to have Brendon here, with him, and he still found it hard to
breathe sometimes. And this was one of those sometimes, and Ryan was so
breathless that he began to see the stars that were supposed to be above him,
beneath his hands.
Brendon looked away from the fireworks to connect gazes with Ryan. He smiled.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” Ryan whispered before ducking his head to kiss Brendon again, slower. A
flash went off in front of him, the wrong direction to be a firework, and he
looked up to see Halsey had a DLSR camera out and pointed at him and Brendon.
Ryan remembered seeing her with a camera bad. His brain was hiccuping over all
the details that mattered, like how Brendon was turning his face into Ryan’s
neck and kissing at the skin. Halsey’s camera flashed again and Ryan shut his
eyes, making the executive decision to just enjoy this.
“Keep rubbing,” he heard Josh request with an audible pout. “My, my scalp is
ready for your gorgeous, soft hands. Please?”
“So needy,” Halsey hummed. “Suck a little baby.”
Brendon pulled away from the kiss and tossed sand at Josh, giggling. “You’re a
doofus, Joshy,” he said. “You’re in a pretty girl’s lap and all you want is a
head rub? Set some higher standards for yourself! She’s already so out of your
league.”
“Fucking brutal,” Mikey cackled, unwrapping his lips from around the popsicle.
“Brendon knows how to tear someone apart, fuck!”
Josh tossed sand back at Brendon, but it got tossed into Ryan’s face instead.
Ryan sputtered and reared up, wiping at his eyes and lips to try and get the
sand from his face and hair and fucking everything. Mikey started laughing and
apologizing profusely at the same time while somehow managing to actually sound
sincere. Ryan kinda hated him.
“I really like Halsey,” Brendon said suddenly as he giggled. He was mostly
talking to Ryan, but Brendon knew everyone else could hear him, including the
girl of topic. “She’s pretty and nice and I like that she has the camera
everywhere. Like she could take a picture of anything and always love it,
right?” Brendon was smiling as he played with sand between his fingertips. “She
seems like the type of person you’d want to know for a really long time. Like,
as long as forever.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Josh said idly, not thinking much of it
because Josh never thought much of saying or condoning big ideas. “She’s got
this light to her eyes that form a halo above her head. And she’s got that low
voice that makes you think she could work a sex line, but be fucking royalty at
the same time, because there’s no other way to describe the way she sounds
besides regal.”
Halsey was petting his hair again. She smiled impishly. “You really think
that?”
Josh nodded, still thinking nothing of it.
Halsey smiled wider. “Well, count my stars, aren’t I just the luckiest gal of
them all?” Then she dipped down and pecked Josh’s lips softly. Ryan could tell
it was their first kiss because Josh’s eyes flew wide open in a way that showed
shocked revelation. Above them, the fireworks show hit its finale.
. . .
“I like Halsey and Josh together,” Brendon giggled as they drove to the beach.
“They’re cute. They have sex like us, right? Like Gee and Frank and stuff. A
girl and a boy has sex like two boys do, right?”
“Not exactly like two boys, but yeah,” Ryan said. “Women and men feel the same
sexual urges, so sex is a frequent thing for any gender that identifies with
the appropriate sexuality. In fact, some studies say that women have more of a
sex drive than men, but they obviously never studied same sex couples, because
Mikey and Ray are sex addicts.”
Brendon giggled. “Is sex different with other people?”
Ryan nodded. “Absolutely, yeah. Different people like different things, feel
good in different ways. Like, Gerard and Frank like to get kinda violent. They
bite and draw blood and get bruises and love it. Mikey likes having a fist up
his ass, and Josh likes it when you grab his ass and slap it.”
Ryan didn’t notice his slip.
“How do you know that?” Brendon asked in a cautious voice.
Ryan froze.
“You can tell me,” Brendon murmured. “Josh said something. He said it happened
and that I didn’t have to worry about it.”
Ryan groaned. “Fucking Josh.”
“I don’t mind,” Brendon told him. “You explained to me ages ago that sex could
happen without needing to be in love with someone. I get that you were broken
up and lonely and hurt. And I know that it was my fault.” Brendon held Ryan’s
hand over the center console. “I know that you’re with me to the end. We’re
basically husbands.”
Ryan felt a thrill go through his heart at the thought, also kinda just happy
Brendon wasn’t upset about Josh.
His mind lingered over the idea of being Brendon’s husband, and he had to pay
extra attention to the rode before he crashed over his rabbit heart.
. . .
The night of Ryan’s birthday, Ryan woke up to the sound of the downstairs door
swinging shut. He sat up, in a daze, and turned to Brendon to ask him if he’d
heard the same sound.
Except Brendon wasn’t there.
Ryan bolted out of bed, a million miles more awake. He shouted for Josh and
Halsey and pulled on a pair of slipper shoes before running outside. Brendon
wasn’t in the yard anymore, but he saw the backyard gate door clang shut. Josh
ran up to his side, only in cargo pants in tennis shoes, and Halsey joined him,
in Josh’s boxers and a hoodie that was too big to be hers, too.
“Where’d he go?” Josh asked urgently.
Ryan pointed, then began to run. He heard Josh screaming at the other house and
Halsey started talking to someone that didn’t respond, so it had to be a phone,
but Ryan didn’t dare look back and risk losing sight of what was ahead of him.
Ryan ran as fast as he could and tried not to scream when he heard the blare of
a car horn. It was midnight, but it was also LA, traffic near the beach was
going be a constant, and there was some sort of summer DJ party happening that
they’d collectively opted out of because of Ryan’s birthday. Ryan was terrified
Brendon would be hit by a car.
“Brendon!” he screamed anyways, just praying he could wake Brendon up with his
voice alone. “Brendon, wake up!”
He darted around the street corner and stopped under a street light, just
staring. Brendon was walking into oncoming traffic, two lanes of white lights
that had squealing brakes. It took Ryan all of three seconds to take action
before he ran after Brendon into traffic. A sports car blared its horn at Ryan,
but he didn’t even pause. He got to Brendon and lifted the boy up in his arms
against his chest, heading for the opposite end of the street instead of
doubling back. When Ryan was stepping onto the sidewalk, he felt the air rush
past him as a car just narrowly missed his leg.
Ryan collapsed onto the sidewalk with Brendon in his arms and sobbed, holding
the boy to his chest. He didn’t know if Brendon was awake or not yet. Ryan
heard Frank shouting along with Josh, but couldn’t bring himself to answer. He
was fucking exhausted and worn out and he wanted, he fucking needed to know
what was torturing Brendon like this.
“Ryan?” Brendon whispered in Ryan’s ear.
Ryan sniffled and tried to stop himself from crying. “Y-yeah, baby?”
Brendon was quiet for a moment. “Is it your birthday?”
Ryan found he couldn’t answer again. He heard Frank land on his knees beside
him, and knew that the others were close behind. Ryan just wanted to go to
sleep.
“Happy birthday, Ry,” Brendon whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ryan sobbed.
. . .
September second was Spencer’s birthday, and Ryan knew this very well. He knew
Spencer’s birthday better thanks own, and would always send Spencer a short
message of well wishing every fucking year, with no answer. Josh was the only
person who knew about it, and had apparently decided that this needed to
change.
“I’m taking your phone,” Josh told him. He handed it off to Ray, who looked it
over curiously, before slipping the phone into his back pocket. “We’re going to
the beach and we’re eating sandwiches and it’s gonna be awesome, and you won’t
even think about Spencer for as much as a second.”
Ryan sighed and looked around at all the faces. Gerard and Frank were off in
New York for Gerard’s new series publishing party, so it was just the five of
them. Ryan almost wished he was in New York for this, because Spencer lived in
LA, not New York. He also really wanted to read Gerard’s new comic— the
Killjoys were fucking awesome, and Ryan could really use the distraction on
this dark fucking day.
“I’ve got the basket packed and everything,” Mikey told Ryan helpfully. “We’ve
got al these sandwiches from that Jason John or whatever place, yeah? You, you
tolerate their food. And we’ve got a boogey board and I’m gonna learn how to
surf for about ten minutes until I give up. Brendon’s already got his suit on
and it’ll be fun, Ry. Come have fun with us.” He paused. “Just, forget that
asshole. Just for a second.”
What sold Ryan on the idea was how hopeful Brendon looked.
He sighed and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
. . .
Ryan was just walking, minding his own fucking business, when a volleyball shot
into his vision, and into his fucking face. It hit him square in the nose, and
he hit the ground hard while deja vu made his thoughts spin with his head.
Ryan looked up into the bright sun and blinked as a face came into his line of
sight and created shade. He squinted, having to bring the face into focus,
which was a chore with the horrible backlight. Ryan kinda felt a little
nauseous when he saw Spencer looking down at him with an equally lost
expression.
“Ryan,” Spencer greeted stiffly.
“Happy birthday, Spence,” Ryan replied lamely.
Spencer nodded. “What’re you doing back?”
“I live here now.”
Spencer sighed and looked around before offering Ryan a hand, which he
accepted. He brushed himself off, standing beside Spencer, trying to think. He
glanced up and saw Mikey and Ray standing there, looking shocked. Josh and
Brendon didn’t seem to care, they were laughing, thinking Ryan had been hit in
the face with a ball. They didn’t know Spencer’s face like Ray and Mikey did.
“You live here now,” Spencer repeated. “Why’s that?”
Ryan shrugged. “Met my soulmate. Got a band. Gerard’s comic took off and he’s
got a TV show now. Things got pretty good and we were tired of the cold, so we
moved out here.” He
Ryan smiled sadly. “It’s pretty nice.”
“You found Brendon?”
It was Ryan’s turn to nod.
Spencer looked a little shocked. “For real?”
Ryan pointed back to where his family stood. “The shorter one with the Elvis
hair.”
Spencer turned around and stared for a moment. Ryan saw Brendon ask Mikey a
question, which Mikey answered with a single word that had to be a name,
because Brendon suddenly looked a little upset.
“He’s definitely not what I pictured,” Spencer said. “A lot less broken.”
“He’s a good kid,” Ryan said for an answer. “Strong. And smart. He likes to
learn and he’s good at it. Plays about four instruments now, and it’s only been
a year. Really good kid.”
“Not good enough for you,” Spencer said.
Ryan opened his mouth to say something when Brendon was suddenly standing
between them.
“You need to leave!” Brendon ordered, looking angry in a way that Ryan had only
ever seen when he was trying to hurt Ryan back in the dreams. “We came here so
Ryan would have to think about you! You need to leave! You’re hurting him and
it’s not fair, so if you don’t leave, Ray and Mikey and Josh and I will make
you!”
Spencer snorted, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not your beach, kid.”
“And you’re not Ryan’s friend,” Brendon snapped. “So leave him alone!”
Spencer snorted and shook his head. “It’s not hard to believe that Ryan still
can’t fight for himself.” Spencer looked to Ryan, disappointment clear in his
eyes. “I never actually hurt you. You just wanted to be hurt.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Ryan mumbled.
“Goodbye, Ryan.”
Spencer turned away and left
. . .
September tenth was Mikey’s birthday and they’re first show as a signed band.
Ryan had been excited for it, but only inwardly. Seeing Spencer that day and
hearing the cruel things he’d said had put Ryan in this depression and he
couldn’t pull himself out of it. No one could pull him out of it. He would lie
in bed all day if no one tried to pull him out of it.
Ryan felt bad, he truly fucking did, but he was so fucked up by how little
Spencer had cared for him. It had been years, and Spencer didn’t even give a
shit. He was almost positive Spencer had just wanted to hurt Ryan. He just
wanted Ryan to feel like shit for getting Brendon back. Pete hadn’t once shown
that he was against Brendon like he’d talked about before, but he’d hoped
Spencer wasn’t like that too.
Ryan guessed he’d been wrong.
“This show should be fun,” Mikey said conversationally. “I mean, we could have
a good time, right? We’re a band now. We’ve got a name and even a label, and
it’s Pete, you know? Pete’s awesome. He’s gonna help us go far, just like he
did.”
“You guys are gonna be great,” Patrick said, leaning against Ryan’s side.
Patrick was really good at reading moods and acting accordingly, something he
had picked up after knowing Pete for so fucking long. Also, Patrick was a
really intuitive person. Ryan was sure he could have become some sort of faux
mind-reader. He loved Patrick and he loved how Patrick knew what to do without
needing to be told. The physical comfort helped the ache ebb.
“Ryan?” Brendon called out, bouncing up to them, smiling, though it was dimmer.
It had become dimmed over the past couple days. Ryan knew it was his fault. He
was too tired to do anything about it. “We, we’ve got bigger crowds. We don’t
fit the bar anymore. Pete wants to move us up to bigger shows.” He smiled a
tiny bit wider. “Isn’t that great, Ryan?”
Ryan nodded. “Really big deal. You’re bringing us up.”
Brendon shrugged and reached out. Ryan could see he was moving to hold his
hand. Ryan reached, too, and tangled their fingers together gently. Brendon
shuffled closer and leaned against Ryan’s free side. He felt a little more
okay.
Up onstage, under the lights, playing the familiar songs, Ryan had become
accustom to hearing his words out in the ope. He didn’t always like it, but it
meant the world to him to hear people sing Camisado back. Even if the songs
spoke of his darkest hours, Brendon gave them a hint of light.
And past the light, into the crowd, Ryan saw Spencer near the door. He was
watching them. His arms were crossed and his lips were pursed and Ryan could
read his expression like he used to be able to. He wished he still could. He
wished he had Spencer back.
Ryan fumbled his way through the rest of the show. No one really noticed that
something was wrong with him, except everyone who mattered. Mikey and Josh,
Pete and Patrick, Brendon, they were all scared. They were all so fucking
scared. Brendon, sometimes, looked like he was ready to cry. Ryan wished he
could tell them what was happening, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He just knew
he needed to talk to Spencer.
. . .
“I’m not okay,” Ryan told Spencer the second the show was over. He’d darted
offstage and had pushed through the crowd. Surprisingly, and thankfully,
everyone had moved out of his way. They’d probably seen the urgency in Ryan’s
expression. Ryan had reached Spencer with actual tears in his eyes. “I’m really
not okay. I need you back in my life, and that’s all there is to it. You’re my
best friend. Even after everything, you are. You were with me through the worst
parts of my life, and I just need you back.”
Spencer didn’t say anything for a long moment. But finally, “I’m sorry. I
wasn’t fair to you. I left you behind for no reason, and that was fucked up.
I’m very, very sorry.”
Ryan whimpered and stumbled forward, wrapping his arms round Spencer and
hugging him as tight as he could.
“I can’t even begin to make up for what I’ve done to you,” Spencer said softly.
“But I’ll try. Linda is amazing and she’s the love of my life, but she isn’t
you. You've been with me for as long as I can remember, and I should have never
let you go. I should have never pushed you away and turned you away. I was a
monster and I had no reason for it. You deserved to come to my wedding. And you
deserved to stay in my family. You are my family. Not Linda’s family. They
haven’t done shit for me except convince me to leave you, and god, Ryan, I’ve
regretted that every day of my life. I can’t believe I let them convince me to
leave you.
“And, and it just got worse,” he sighed, looking away. “Linda, shit. She said
that she didn’t want you around the kids, which is bullshit. But she seemed to
think that you were a bad influence? Which is a lie. I know you’re not. I
shouldn’t have listened to her. I shouldn’t have listened to the shit that she
said, because you’re not a bad person, and you’re not gonna do bad things to
anyone. I shouldn’t have let anyone tell me this shit. I shouldn’t have let
anyone convince me of what they did and I’m sorry.”
Ryan shook his head. “I-it’s okay,” he said. “I forgive you.”
“I wish you didn’t,” Spencer murmured into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan didn’t know what that meant. He was just happy to have Spencer against him
again.
. . .
“No, no, no, stop!” Brendon screamed in his sleep.
Ryan was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, like he had been for the past ten
minutes. He’d tried to wake up Brendon fifteen minutes ago for about five
minutes. He was tired.
He was very, very tired.
“I wish you would wake up,” Ryan told the ceiling. “I hate the sound of your
screams. And you won’t help me help you.”
Ryan turned his head to look to Brendon. “I just want to help you.”
Brendon sobbed in his sleep and curled into his blanket, away from Ryan.
Ryan got up and grabbed his book, leaving to write. He sat on the couch and
scribbled more than half of his words out, torn apart and ran ragged and
exhausted on the couch. He stayed there for what had to be at least two hours,
his pen scratching over the paper with only the light from the kitchen oven
allowing him to read.
“What’re you doing?”
Ryan jumped when Brendon’s voice interrupted his thoughts. The boy was right
over his shoulder and his eyes were visibly bloodshot.
“That page is basically black,” he said softly. “… Could you read it to me?”
“You won’t like what I’m saying.”
Brendon shrugged. He rounded the couch and sat beside Ryan, their sides
touching. Brendon had the bed comforter wrapped around his shoulders. His hair
was a mess and and Ryan saw a scratch down his cheek. Ryan glanced down to
Brendon’s nails and saw a hint of blood under his nail. He hated to see that
Brendon’s dreams were making him hurt himself.
“Please?” Brendon pressed.
Ryan sighed. “It’s not cohesive yet…”
“Read it anyways.”
Ryan nodded, looking down at the words.
“I’ll always be here, whether you want me there or not, but it’s getting harder
to stay with the bullet wounds you’ve shot. All broken up without a purpose,
making me feel worthless and hopeless, and so fucking stupid because how can I
read minds when they turn their backs like you did?
“So let’s just pretend that the moon is in the same place,and screaming at the
stars will be your saving grace. Because there’s something in the water, and I
can’t be bothered to fight it, and how do you save someone fighting to drown?
How do you make them sweet they mean to you now? Because mirrors can’t show the
way I see you, and if you keep heading for the cliff, I’ll jump off just behind
you.”
“Are you mad at me?” Brendon asked sadly.
“No,” Ryan responded easily, because it was an easy truth. “I’m mad at what’s
happening in your head. I wish you would tell me what was happening. I wish you
would just let me in, and I wish you would actually trust me. Whatever is wrong
is fine, Brendon. Whatever you did is in the past. I’ll love you no matter
what, okay? I will never, ever turn you away or judge you for what happened.”
Ryan turned in his seat to better face Brendon.
“B, baby, I just love you, okay? I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to
spend the rest of my whole fucking life with you, no matter how long or short
it is. I’m going to be by your side and follow you through every storm and
shower and down whatever cliff you lead me. I”m going to be there, right beside
you, and I swear it. So, please… Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Brendon looked down at his hands, not meeting Ryan’s eyes.
“I’m going back to bed,” he said softly.
Ryan’s heart sunk. “Okay.”
Brendon nodded, got up, and left.
. . .
“So Halloween isn’t about the devil?” Brendon asked as he got dressed. “Instead
you just dress up and get candy? And go to parties and do creepy stuff and
watch scary movies? But you don’t actually kill black cats? Or eat people? And
the devil isn’t out there trying to get people? And mass murderers are around
and shit? This isn’t Samhain’s day?”
“Oh my god, I love your quaint views of the best day of the fucking year,”
Frank giggled.
“And even though you were born on Samhain’s Day, you’re no a demon?” Brendon
asked, though he was giggling a bit, because he knew that that one bit was
bullshit.
“Halloween is about celebrating a night of being whoever or whatever you want,”
Frank said, checking his costume out in the mirror. Frank was Frank— the giant
bunny from Donnie Darko, though he was wearing this ridiculous pair of platform
shoes to make himself look taller. Gerard was, appropriately, dressed as
Donnie, and had cut his hair short for the part. Gerard was planning on going
platinum the next day, so Ryan wasn’t trying very hard to grow accustom to the
short, black hair. “I was born on Halloween, Brendon. Just trust me.”
“I’m a Wookie, right?” Brendon asked with a grin.
Frank snorted and met Brendon’s eyes in his reflection. “You’re a fucking
Wookie, no worries.”
Brendon turned to Ryan and smiled brightly, lifting his furry arms in the air.
“I’m a Wookie.”
Ryan smiled tightly and nodded. He was too tired to comment. He was also
dressed as a sloth. He had an excuse for acting the part.
Brendon bit his lip and looked away. Ryan hoped he wasn’t too upset by Ryan’s
lack of luster.
“I am the sexiest nurse of all time,” Mikey said as he came downstairs in a
tiny, pink dress, black leather boots, fishnets, and a nurse cap. “Seriously,
guys? Bring a towel with you to the bash, because you’re gonna be cleaning up
drool all night from every gender.”
Ray followed Mikey down the stairs, staring shamelessly at Mikey’s butt. Ray
was dressed haphazardly, wrapped in the occasional bandage, with blood. He was
Mikey’s less-sexy patient. It was a cute idea. Ryan held out a hand to help
Mikey down the last few steps because he just wanted to be weird.
“Dude, I look good,” Mikey snickered, shamelessly checking out his ass in the
mirror.
“Woah fucking nelly, Mikey fucking Way,” Pete crowed, coming from the kitchen,
dressed as a spoon. “Jesus, how the fuck did you make that work? Look at those
thighs! Look at that booty! Oh my god, look at that fucking man bulge, why the
hell didn’t you tuck, you weirdo?”
Mikey wiggled his hips and the bulge kinda swayed a little. “I’m wearing
panties.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Pete snorted.
“Why would you hide something as illustrious as my dick?” Mikey asked.
“It’d be a crime,” Ray agreed softly, kissing Mikey’s cheek as he passed.
“Where’s Patrick, Pete?”
“Here,” Patrick grumbled as he came into the main room. He was dressed as a
fork. Jesus, Patrick and Pete were a spoon and a fork. The puns were going to
be horrible.
Pete giggled. “Hey. Hey, Pat. Hey.” He giggled harder. “Can I spoon you?”
“I’m gonna cut your tongue out.”
Pete giggled louder and kissed Patrick sweetly.
Ryan looked around at their group and then looked up the stairs. “Where are
Josh and Halsey?” he asked tiredly. When no one answered him, Ryan began to
trudge up the stairs. He knocked on the main bathroom door inside Gerard and
Frank’s room. “Stop fucking fucking and fucking get out here,” he almost
slurred. As Ryan went back to the stairs to descend, he heard a whisper of,
“I’m worried about Ryan and I can’t think of anything either.”

Jesus christ.
“I’m fine,” he snapped as he walked down the stairs. “I’m really fine, guys,
and that’s really kinda annoying that you feel the need to talk about me behind
my back, about anything.” He narrowed his eyes at everyone, who were all
huddled in a small group, looking so fucking guilty about being caught. “You
know how much that pisses me off. Don’t go behind my back. For fucking
anything.”
Gerard was the first one to pull away from the circle, wincing. “Sorry, Ry…”
Ryan headed out the door, scowling. “Let’s get this over with.”
It was just some random party with all of Pete’s associates that Pete had
insisted they attend, just to make connections. Ryan wasn’t very excited
because he wasn’t good at pretending to be interesting in a conversation that
made him want to ram his head into a door. He hated faking it. He hated faking
anything. He felt like having to fake something to get somewhere was the lowest
you could get in life. He couldn’t stand saving face for people who only wanted
his face in the first place. But Pete kept insisted that his friends weren’t
like that, and Ryan definitely didn’t want to be alone on Halloween— let alone
without Brendon. It was also Frank’s birthday, and Frank wanted to go, so… Ryan
was attending.
He was about three beers into the party when Brendon came over to Ryan’s side,
looking a bit upset. A sad sort of upset.
“Why are you mad?” Brendon asked him. His rookie makeup was smeared and Ryan
had seen him talking to some really huge guy named Zack who made Brendon laugh
louder than Ryan had ever made Brendon laugh. And he’d been fucking jealous and
his bad mood had gone from bad to worse.
“I’m not mad,” he lied. “I’m tired.” Not a lie.
Brendon looked distraught. “I, I know that’s my fault. That you’re so tired.
I’m really sorry, Ryan.” Brendon looked down at his hands, which were knotted
together in front of his chest. “You don’t sleep like you used to. I don’t know
if it’s always been like that, but Mikey told me you’ve had trouble sleep for,
for seven years. A-and we met seven years ago. So it’s my fault, and I know it,
and I’m sorry.”
“Brendon,” he sighed. “It’s not actually your fault, okay? Like, it’s kinda
what’s happening with you, but it’s not your fault because you don’t intend for
it to happen.”
Brendon ducked his head. “… Do you want to know what I see in my dreams?”
Ryan stared at him for a moment before nodding dumbly.
Brendon took Ryan’s hand and pulled him down the hall of whoever’s fucking
mansion this was to the bathroom.
. . .

“I was born at a midwife’s house,” Brendon told Ryan softly. He was still
dressed as a Wookie and Ryan was still a sloth, and this was almost surreal,
but all of his attention was on his soulmate.
“They, they told me that I was a difficult birth. That I hurt my mom a lot.
She, she always would get mad at me when I did stuff and would talk about how
bad I was when she was, like, birthing me, and she never, ever let me forget
that I was difficult and stuff. And so did my dad and my siblings, and they all
got kinda mad at me randomly and would be, like, “you killed Maddie and you
nearly killed mom.” They, they would be so mean.
“So, but, like…” Brendon stumbled over his words, looking more anxious by the
second. Ryan reached out to hold Brendon’s hand with a patient expression,
willing to wait another year to hear this secret if it meant helping Brendon
feel better.
Brendon squeezed Ryan’s hand. “My mom, she drove herself home, like, the same
day she gave birth. I was in the car in the back seat, wrapped up in a blanket.
All of the seatbelts in that car are broken. I, I was just a baby, you know?
I’d been alive for less then eight hours, a-and my mom was driving me home in
some sketchy blanket, a-and I actually was really sick for two years after that
because of the blanket and the neglect, b-but what I’m trying to tell you is…”
Brendon fell silent, so Ryan sat on the floor in front of Brendon, who was
sitting on the edge of the tub. He pulled his hands from Brendon’s, and put his
hands on Brendon’s thighs and squeezed gently. He then placed a kiss to
Brendon’s clothed, inner knee and waited again.
Brendon took in a long, shaking breath before finally continuing.
“They say that I was crying,” he murmured. “Crying too much and that I would
sh-shut up. They said that I distracted my mom and that if I hadn’t been
crying, everything would’ve been okay. But, but I as crying, and my mom turned
around to shut me up and she hit this… this tree. I think it was a tree. It was
a tree or a deer or a post or a fire hydrant. No one’s ever told me the same
thing. But she hit it, a-and Maddie went out the windshield and lost her face
on the asphalt a-and died…”
Brendon stopped talking and Ryan almost stopped breathing.
“Are you kidding?” Ryan asked softly. “Like… They blamed a fucking infant? A
small child? They blame a fucking newborn for your mother’s shitty driving
skills and that’s why they fucking hit you?”
Brendon winced and shrugged. “I mean, I-I was crying.”
“No,” Ryan interrupted harshly. “Fucking, fucking no, okay? Just, no. Infant,
Brendon. You were an infant and you’d been alive for less than a fucking day,
okay? You didn’t cause your mom to fuck up and you didn’t kill Maddie.”
Brendon let out this little breath and managed a smile. Ryan felt a little sick
when he realized that Brendon had gone his whole life thinking he was a
murderer, and had been waiting for the first person to tell Brendon that he
wasn’t. He hated that it had taken so many years for Brendon to hear the truth.
“Thank you for telling me,” Ryan said sincerely. “Thank you so much. I-I’ve
been so worried, and… And now that I know what’s going on, I feel like I can
help you.”
“Really?” Brendon asked, perking up a bit with a hopeful look in his eyes.
“You, you can help me? With the nightmares?”
Ryan nodded. “Nightmares are easy to stop once you know what they’re about.
Talking about it or writing down the entire scenario are the best methods I can
think of. I don’t recommend reenacting the event or anything like that, so
we’ll talk you through it, okay? And write it down and maybe talk about it with
someone else, about how it makes you feel and stuff. When I wake you up from a
nightmare, I want you to tell me everything you’re thinking in that moment,
okay? If we tear this dream apart, piece by piece, it’ll lose any hold it has
on you, and you can finally get some sleep.”
“And you,” Brendon giggled. “You, you need some sleep too.” He reached out and
carefully touched his fingertips to the bags under Ryan’s eyes. “You’re so
grumpy when you’re sleepy.”
Ryan snorted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring you guys down.”
Brendon shrugged and smiled more. “I’m glad you weren’t actually mad at me.”
“Never,” Ryan swore. “I, I’m not upset with you.”
“Just upset with the circumstances?” Brendon suggested.
Ryan nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Brendon shrugged. “I love you.”
Ryan smiled and leaned in to kiss him softly. “I love you too.”
. . .
“So, I’m gonna gorge myself on this turkey,” Frank said as he attempted to work
his fist up the turkey’s ass. “Just, only me. All of y’all can order KFC or
something and pig out on that, but this turkey is mine.” He wiggled his hand
and giggled. “This thing takes my fist almost as well as Gee does.”
“Holy shit, shut up,” Mikey choked out, choking on his wine and having to let
it dribble from his lips into the sink. “I’m gonna throw up.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “Ray’s done worse to you.”
“All I can see is your face on that turkey now,” Pete said. Josh giggled and
darted out of the kitchen. Halsey watched him go, then went back to sipping her
wine and watching Mikey fall apart over the sink. She was giggling and Brendon
was watching next to her, both of them whispering commentary back and forth,
more and likely discussing just how much of a dork he was. Or about the fact
that Ray had put two flour handprints on the seat of Mikey’s jeans.
“You do realize we can see exactly what Ray was touching while you guys were
messing around, right?” Ryan reached over and slapped Mikey’s ass where one of
Ray’s hands had been. Mikey just wiggled his butt and didn’t move away from the
sink.
“Guys, guys, listen,” Frank giggled. He started to trust his fist, and the
turkey carcass made a wet, squeaking sound. “Exactly like Gerard. I’m fisting a
miniature Gerard and he’s fucking love it. Just like Gerard does.”
“Why is he so obsessed with fisting you?” Mikey demanded, his stained tone
echoing in the sink. Ray eventually took pity on Mikey and went over to rub his
back.
“We haven’t had sex in, like, three days because I’m busy working on Killjoys,”
Gerard said.
“Congrats, by the way,” Halsey said. “I’m a huge fan of Umbrella Academy. I’m
fucking pumped for this story.”
Gerard just smiled bashfully and watched Frank fist the fucking turkey, jesus.
“You okay, baby?” Ray asked softly, trying to help drown out the squelching
noises.
Mikey visibly gagged.
Brendon giggled and Josh came back into the kitchen with a sloppily cut out,
printed image of Gerard’s face with some tape on it. He stuck it on the front
of the turkey and took a step back to survey his masterpiece.
“Oh my god,” Mikey wheezed. “Fuck all of you.”
“Careful, guys,” Pete snorted. “I think Mikey’s pregnant.”
Patrick came into the kitchen with his hands full of grocery bags and just
kinda stopped when he saw what Frank and Mikey and everyone else was doing.
“What the fuck, guys,” he sighed. “I mean, fucking really? Frank’s fucking a
turkey and Mikey’s vomiting in the sink. Why is Gerard’s face on the turkey?
What is this?”
“Family,” Brendon chimed in with a giggle.
Everyone kinda paused and looked to Brendon. Even Mikey stopped his
overreaction.
Brendon shrugged “That’s what this is, right? This is family. Getting together
and making a meal and being happy and just, like, existing. That’s what you
called it, right, Gee? We’re family and we’re having fun and laughing and
joking around. That’s what this is all about, right? Being a family.”
“If you weren’t already with Ryan, I would snatch you up and away and love you
forever,” Pete chuckled.
Ryan strode forward and kissed Brendon hard, putting every ounce of affection
he had into the touch of their lips. Brendon giggled again and held onto Ryan’s
hips, smiling up the attention.
“You’re all interrupting my fisting of the turkey,” Ryan heard Frank pout, and
Ryan ended up laughing so hard that he couldn’t focus. Brendon laughed with him
and Mikey started gagging again, and Brendon had it right.
Family.
. . .
“It’s been one year,” Brendon told Ryan in a soft whisper as they lay in bed on
Christmas Eve. They were lying together, naked, Brendon drawing small patterns
on Ryan’s chest. Ryan was petting Brendon’s soft hair.
It had been one year.
One year exactly, almost to the hour.
Ryan lied in bed with Brendon and took note of what had changed.
Brendon’s hair was longer and styled. The boy had started to care about his
appearance more and more over the passing months. Mikey and Gerard had helped
him build up his wardrobe and Brendon spent more time choosing his clothes than
he did taking a shower, but took even longer for his hair. He started going to
the gym almost every other day with Ray and was slimming out and becoming tone
and looking more and more like the teenager he was, though he wasn’t going to
be a teen for much longer.
Brendon had his 18th birthday marked on the calendar. They were going to get
Brendon emancipated for his parents that day. He’d started talking about
school, about trying to figure out a way to get a GED and go to community
college, only because he wanted to learn, though nothing specific. He just
wanted to get a blanket of information on things he was curious about. He could
read and write and was starting to actually look into the classics. Gerard had
convinced him to read the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and Frank got him to read
Gerard’s comics. Brendon preferred the comics.
Brendon talked about learning how to play the trumpet and/or saxophone. He was
already fucking amazing at acoustic, electric, and bass guitar, could serenade
Ryan with a ukulele with his eyes closed, could jam out on a piano like a
fucking master thanks to the times Tyler would visit and teach him, could slam
out a fucking vicious beat on the drum set in their garage that Josh taught him
to play. Now Brendon wanted to learn the trumpet and the saxophone and then the
banjo. Ryan was going to teach him to play the banjo.
They’d recorded an album and it was planned to drop in the beginning of
January. They hadn’t done many shows, but Pete was running awareness of Panic!
and was convinced the album debut would be a fucking hit, so Ryan wasn’t
worried. Brendon hadn’t taken long to adjust to the spotlight. He even fucking
loved it. Brendon loved talking to people that recognized them from old shows.
He loved taking photos with everyone and he loved answering questions and just
talking about anything and everything.
The band itself was fucking stellar. Music was flowing from Mikey and Josh and
Brendon. Ryan had composed most of the stuff in the beginning and was now happy
to sit back and let the others handle the adaption of their recorded music for
their future shows. Pete had a tour set up for them the coming year, West to
East coast, because Chicago begged for their return. Frank and Gerard were
tagging along with Ray and Halsey. They had rented their own fucking camper to
drive behind the bus Pete had gotten the band. Ryan was pretty sure they were
supposed to go through a bus stage, and was a bit worried about the sudden fame
getting to Brendon’s head, but he trusted his family to get everyone through
it.
The dreams were basically over. Brendon slept like a fucking log through the
night. He didn’t like thunderstorms, Ryan discovered, but they definitely
weren’t a big deal in LA. Brendon lived for the beach and was pestering Ryan to
adopt a dog, saying he’d always wanted one and knew he could handle the
responsibility. Ryan was three words form caving, so they were going to be
getting a dog soon.
Sarah was planning to come visit with Jeremy. Her foster parents were pretty
chill once they got to know Ryan through Ray through Ray’s dad. An explanation
of the whole mess had been due, ending with the foster parents being lenient,
as long as Ray was present. Brendon was excited and trying to work out the
dates with Pete so Sarah could visit before they went on tour. Ryan was
actually really excited to meet the girl in person. Brendon and her texted
often enough to be considered a normal teenager and, just, fuck.
Ryan was just so fucking proud of him.
“A whole year, Ry,” Brendon said softly.
Ryan nodded and kissed Brendon’s temple.
“That, that’s seven years,” Brendon continued softly. “Seven years that you’ve
been here for me. Probably closer to eight, yeah? And, and I don’t think I’ve
ever actually thanked you like I feel like I should.”
Brendon sat up, the moonlight bouncing off his chest, making his entire boy
glow angelically. Ryan frowned and proper himself up with his pillow, reaching
out to rest his hands on Brendon’s hips to keep him steady while Brendon moved
to sit in his lap.
“Ryan, do you know what you mean to me?” Brendon asked with a soft whisper.
Ryan shook his head dumbly, because he didn't know what the correct answer was.
Brendon smiled a bit. “I’m gonna tell you a little thing about me,” he said
softly.
“When I was little, just nine years old, I felt less than human,” Brendon began
softly. “I would sit in my little closet of a room and look through these
cracks in the wall to watch my family be normal human beings. I would watch
bugs and the rain and I would be so cold, because the floor would flood and I
wouldn’t be allowed to wear shoes. I didn't know what I was, barely knew what
it felt like to have someone look at with me without harmful intent.
“Then one day, I fell asleep and I wasn’t alone.” Brendon smiled a bit and ran
his fingers over Ryan’s chest again. “There was this guy in there, and he was
kinda scary, at first, but he had the nicest eyes and the most reassuring voice
I had ever heard. Just listening to him made my racing heart slow down. He made
me feel like I could try to smile. And he was there every single night after
that, talking to me about all of his crazy friends and his crazy life. He told
me his name was Ryan and that he was eighteen. When I told him I turned ten, he
seemed almost scared.
“As I got to know him, I started to see him as this…” Brendon shrugged. “Well,
this angel. So I gave him wings. And every night, he would wrap his wings
around me and protect me and keep me safe. It was nice and warm and white and I
felt more at home in his arms, under his wings, than anywhere else I had ever
been my entire life. He was my savior.
Brendon went quiet for a second. “… And then I burnt those wings away,” he
murmured. “I hurt that man more than I ever thought I could hurt someone. He
lied on the floor and begged for me to stop, but I didn’t stop.” Brendon’s
hands went still over Ryan’s heart. “I became the same monsters my parents
were. I became what I’d hoped to never be, and I hurt that person in an
inexcusable and unforgivable way.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan interrupted quietly. “I knew you were having a hard time.
It’s okay now.”
Brendon shrugged again. “I treated him like shit for years after that,” he
continued sadly. “I told him that he wasn’t real, that he didn’t love me
because he didn’t exist. I made him feel so broken that he started losing his
will to live, to stick around. I made him want to kill himself, Ryan.” Brendon
shook his head. “Inexcusable. Wrong. So fucked up. I-I was evil back then to
him, and I can’t even begin to understand why he stuck around. Why he didn’t
just drop the dreams with those surgeries. I broke the strongest, greatest,
most wholesome person I’d ever known. I tore him down and made him want to give
up. And that is the worst thing I have ever done in my life, Ryan.” Brendon
looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes. “Even when I knew what I’d done to Maddie, what
I did to you was worse than her death.” Brendon smiled brokenly. “I’m sorry,
Ryan. For what I did.”
Ryan shook his head and took Brendon’s palm in his hand. He placed a kiss to
the centre of it. “Keep going, baby.”
Brendon nodded, squirming a bit in Ryan’s lap to become more comfortable. “So,
yeah. I was a monster and he kept forgiving me, amazingly enough.” Brendon
smiled again, and it wasn’t so dismal anymore. “He kept talking about his crazy
family and he told me about how he was going to school for me and how he was
looking for me, always looking for me. He listened to me talk about my crush on
a girl that wasn’t him, and I know it hurt him, so he was did so fucking well
and was so strong. I admire him now for that.
“But you wanna know the best part?” Brendon asked with a grin. Ryan nodded,
reaching down to play with Brendon’s fingers. “He actually did find me, Ryan.
I’m still not sure how. Like, I know he found Sarah’s social worker and then
found me through him, but…” He giggled a bit, eyes shining with emotion. “He
fucking found me, got his friend’s dad to pick me up in a car and drive me
across the country to him. He waited for me at the airport and went into
traffic to save me. He actually went into traffic for me twice. And he showed
me, over and over, in my dreams and in my waking life, that you were what I
really needed. Not Sarah or my parents or anyone else. I just needed Ryan, and
he never let me down.
“And oh my goodness, have I had a life,” Brendon murmured. “I’ve lived more
this past year than any other second in my life. He showed me the ocean and
taught me to make music. We’re in a band and we’re going on tour next year.
We’ve got plans to go to Disneyland and sex is fucking awesome, and so is
masturbating, and I like dressing up and glitter is the best and I look fucking
amazing in red, and I never knew that until you came and saved me.”
Ryan smiled a bit when Brendon changed from the third person to addressing Ryan
directly.
“You saved me and helped me see the world and now I get to see more of this
country that I live in, and I love you,” Brendon said. “You’ve shown me
everything that I’ve always wanted to know. You’ve taught me things about
myself that I could never imagine. You taught me how to actually be a person
and discover what I like. Like how much I love Celine Dion and Elvis and
fucking Frank Sinatra.” Brendon grinned. “I mean, you don’t like some of that
stuff, but you supported it anyways. Pete told me I was lucky that you were
letting me be me, and not what you wanted me to be.
“Ryan, everything you have ever done for the past seven years has been for me,”
Brendon said with a disbelieving smile. “You’re one hundred percent dedicated
to me and it blows me away when I see and experience just how far you’d got for
me. And every time, I know, in my mind, that I will never, ever find someone
like you. So…”
Brendon reached to his nightstand. “Ray helped me pick this out. He took me
shopping and he helped me chose the best metal, and Mikey said it was perfect,
and Gerard kinda just cried a little, so I think he meant it was a good chose.”
Ryan’s brain tripped over itself when he saw it was a red velvet box that could
fit into Brendon’s palm. “You didn’t,” he breathed.
Brendon grinned and the moonlight shown on his teeth. “I’m not gonna do
anything fancy cause I’m not creative, but it’s been seven years, nearly eight.
That’s pretty long. And this past year has been the best trial run, so…” He
shrugged. “I mean, I can’t even imagine you saying no to this question, but
I’ll ask it anyways— will you marry me?”
Ryan clapped his hands over his mouth and stared at the box.
“Huh?” Brendon began to visibly think, before he giggled. “Forgot to open the
box.” He opened the ring box. “First kiss on Christmas, right?”
The ring was a gorgeous silver band with a thin, hollowed out line down the
middle. Ryan wasn’t sure what it represented, but he loved it because Brendon
had chosen that ring with Ryan in mind. His vision blurred as he began to tear
up, and Ryan nodded shakily. 

“Yes,” he choked out. “Yes. A million times yes,
always fucking yes, always.”
Brendon grinned and pulled the ring from the box to slip it only Ryan’s finger.
“This ring means you’re mine,” he said proudly. “You’re mine, and I’m yours
too. Agreed?”
Ryan pulled Brendon down for a passionate kiss and replied, “Agreed.”
Chapter End Notes
     i just wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart--
     thank you. so fucking much.
     never did i ever think this story (or any story i wrote) could get
     this kinda of following and support. i always dreamed it would, but
     never believed it would actually happen. as someone wanting to become
     an author, it's fucking amazing to know that, at the very least, i
     made it to this sort of height with a fanfic.
     all of you are just fucking awesome and i adore every single one of
     you. you're all great and you're special little embers, lighting
     fires and changing lives.
     you're all the best.
     thanks for reading.
***** No Tears— Los Angeles Would have Killed You Anyway (The Dark Doo Wop and
Road Trips) *****
Chapter Summary
     [ALTERNATE ENDING]
     Josh/Ryan
Chapter Notes
     the first 3000 words in, it's gonna be basically the same as chapter
     22, but you should read it anyways because there are really subtle
     changes that set up the whole break up
     this is the ending that has Josh/Ryan instead of Brendon/Ryan
     like two or three people wanted this, so i did it
      
     it's not proof read, super duper sorry
      
     jesus i had no idea the typos were this bad lemme proof read this
     anyways super sorry
      
     Suicide attempt warning: when Ryan tells Gerard he wants to go on a
     walk
      
     thanks anyways if you read it
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Ryan woke up just before everyone else.
Brendon was crying out softly in his sleep and shaking.
Ryan had expected this, he really had, but fuck, he’d hoped that it would have
taken Brendon’s mind longer to fall apart. Still, it made sense. Seeing and
going through all the shit Brendon had meant that it wouldn’t sneak up on him.
He’d fall into the deep end at the very beginning of it all, and Ryan fucking
knew this would happen, jesus.
It took Ryan a long moment to actually act. He just stared at Brendon, still in
disbelief that the boy was in his bed rather than his head, until Brendon
gasped and it sounded more bad than good, so Ryan reached out and brushed his
hand across Brendon’s face. He remembered learning that you shouldn’t wake
people from some certain types of nightmares. Ryan hoped that this wasn’t one
of the more serious types yet.
“Baby,” Ryan murmured, caressing Brendon’s cheek, thanking whatever god was
there that he could actually touch him. “B, wake up…”
Brendon choked on a noise of fear before his eyes shot open and sucked in a
gush of air. His lower lip was trembling and his eyes darted around the dark
room, obviously off balance and unable to recognize his surroundings. But then
he looked to his left, to where Ryan was laying beside him, and almost
instantly calmed.
“… For real?” Brendon asked in a shaky whisper.
Ryan nodded. “You’re safe, baby,” he told Brendon. “You’re with me.”
Brendon nodded and reached out with a trembling hand to hold Ryan’s own hand.
Brendon ran his thumb over Ryan’s fingers and smiled a bit, though it died less
than a second later. “I-I dreamed about my father,” he said after a moment.
“He, he was…”
Ryan waited. “He was what, baby?”
“He, he was hitting you,” Brendon choked out. “Hurting you. He had a gun, a-and
there was blood everywhere. Your, your arms and legs were broken, and you
weren’t making any noise, and you woke me up the m-moment I realized you
weren’t breathing, either…”
Ryan grimaced and ran his fingers through Brendon’s hair. “I’m alive, baby.
Everything’s okay.”
Brendon sniffled, and Ryan’s heart sunk when he realized he was crying. But
jesus, this was still better than being state-lines away. Brendon was, also,
still crying, though, and that felt fucking awful.
“B, baby, it’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s really okay. I’m here, alright? Don’t
cry, baby.”
Brendon squirmed closer to Ryan between the sheets. “What’s kissing like?” he
asked.
Ryan tensed. “What?”
“Kissing,” Brendon repeated. “I mean, I-I know we’ve kissed. In our heads.
Like, yeah, that, that’s okay, it was awesome. It was really awesome.” Brendon
smiled shyly and Ryan fell in love all over again. “Just, uh… I-is it different
when you’re awake?”
Ryan hesitated. “I-I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “I’ve never kissed you
outside of my head. I don’t know if it’ll be different, but I know we could
try.”
It was too dark to be certain, but Ryan was pretty sure Brendon had blushed.
Ryan meant to say more than something as simple and basically lame as that, but
then there was a knock on his door, and he was a little relieved. He snapped
his eyes to the door and paused.
“Ry, Brendon, wake up!” Frank giggled from behind the wood. “It’s fucking
Christmas, and Santa came!”
Ryan sat up with a snort and kissed the top of Brendon’s head before sliding
out of bed. He yawned and stretched, pointing his fingers to the ceiling and
letting the sleepiness melt from his bones. He was shirtless, as always for
bed, and the cold air made him shiver. Ryan grabbed one of Josh’s hoodies that
Josh had left behind and pulled it on, enjoying how frumpy the large jacket was
on his lithe structure. It made him feel like he was walking in a blanket that
had a convenient zipper. He turned around to see that Brendon was staring at
him.
“What?” he asked softly, a bit confused by the expression on Brendon’s face.
Brendon shrugged. “I-I’ve never seen you without clothes.” Brendon pulled a
pillow into his lap and to his chest. “You’re pretty. You’re really pretty.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re really pretty too, baby. Wanna get up? We’ve got presents
to open.”
Brendon nodded and scrambled out of bed, looking around for something. Ryan
realized that the kid didn’t have any clothes. It actually kinda looked like
what he was wearing was the only thing he’d been allowed to wear his whole
life. Ryan pursed his lips and went to his closest to find something. “Do you
wanna take a shower?” he offered.
Brendon didn’t answer.
Ryan turned around with an old shirt in his hand while he looked for some
sweatpants. “B?”
“I-I’ve never showered,” Brendon mumbled. “Only baths.”
Ryan nodded slowly, taking in the information. “Do you, uh… Do you want a
bath?”
Brendon shook his head. “I wanna shower. I just don’t know how.”
Jesus, this was going to be a thin line.
“Do you…” Ryan swallowed hard. “Do you, maybe, want some help?”
Brendon nodded.
Ryan nodded.
“After presents?” he offered.
Brendon nodded.
Ryan nodded. Then he handed Brendon the shirt and sweatpants. “Wear that for
now,” he said. “We’ll get you some real clothes later.” Ryan wished he’d
thought of clothing before hand. Brendon’s ratty slacks and shirt looked like
they weren’t even from Brendon’s own generation.
“Real clothes?” Brendon repeated. “Like, like what my siblings wear?”
Ryan smiled a bit and nodded. “Just like that, yeah. Only better. Because Mikey
knows all the coolest things to wear and he loves it and shit. He’ll help me
dress you up. It’ll be fun. We’ll go shopping and get you some real fucking
clothes, yeah?”
Brendon grinned and nodded. He shucked off his old shirt and looked around.
“Where should I put this?”
“The fucking garbage,” Ryan said with an air of finality.
Brendon giggled and shuffled over to the trash can, dropping the shirt inside.
He stared at the garment like he was thinking, then turned to Ryan with a wide
smile. “This is it,” he said breathlessly. “This is it, isn’t it? This, this is
what life should feel like. Getting rid of what makes you sad and replacing it
with someone that makes you happy. That’s a good life, right?”
“The best life,” Ryan affirmed.
“I’m excited,” Brendon giggled. “C’mon, I wanna go see the tree again!”
“Don’t you need to finish changing?” Ryan reminded him patiently.
“Oh yeah!” Brendon gasped, before stepping out of his pants thoughtlessly. He
wasn’t fucking wearing underwear or anything. Ryan squeaked and turned around
to face the wall. Regardless of how good this all felt, Brendon was still
sixteen. He was a minor. Ryan couldn’t forget himself in the face of his
excitement. He was the adult. He had to be the responsible one. He was going to
be the responsible one and he was happy to realize that he didn’t want to look.
“What’re you doing?” Brendon asked.
Ryan turned around, expecting Brendon to be fully clothed again, but froze when
he saw Brendon was stark naked. And jesus, he was too skinny. Ryan could see
each rib and it made him dizzy with horror. No one should be that emaciated. It
was abusive, and Brendon was fucking abused, jesus.
Brendon was smiling like nothing was wrong, and Ryan’s chest tightened. Even
through all of that shit, Brendon was able to smile like he meant it.
“Just, just giving you some privacy,” Ryan said sadly.
Brendon snorted. “I’m your soulmate, silly. You can look. You know my head.
Might as well get to know my body, right?”
“I don’t think this is a good time for that,” Ryan choked out.
“Why not?”
“Presents!” Ryan blurted out. “And, and people! Christmas!” He laughed and it
was tight and awkward. “C’mon, let’s get some clothes on you so we can so see
everyone else. It’ll be fun, yeah? Your first Christmas with your family.” He
handed Brendon the sweatpants. “Let’s go, baby. You’re gonna love this life.”
Brendon giggled and took the clothes, stepping into them and pulled them up his
hips. “They’re big…”
Ryan swallowed hard, then stepped forward and reached down to knot the string
after pulling it tighter. He could feel the heat radiating off of Brendon’s
body. It was unvarying and making him anxious. He shuddered and pulled away
after a pause. Then he tossed the shirt on Brendon’s head and toed on his own
slippers, because his toes tended to get really cold, and nowhere else.
“I-I wanna hear music,” Brendon told Ryan. “Just once, maybe? Not right now. I
wanna have Christmas. But could I maybe hear something after?”
Ryan smiled and nodded. “I’ll think of something. Make sure it’s good.”
Brendon ducked his head, grinning. “Thank you.”
. . .
Brendon’s eyes were wide like a kid’s with every present he opened, grinning
and thanking everyone like it was the first time he’d ever been given a gift.
Ryan expected it was, or at least something close.
Ryan had gotten Brendon a guitar, because he knew Brendon wanted one, he could
just tell. Ryan was also kinda proud of himself for the purchase when he’d seen
the way Brendon had looked at Ryan’s instruments earlier that night.
Mikey had ended up putting some elf hat on Brendon. It was pointy and green and
red and just a little ridiculous. Ryan thought it was the cutest thing ever.
Brendon had giggled and laughed until he’d snorted air through his nose, only
to keep on laughing. Mikey had looked really fucking proud of himself the whole
time, winking at Ryan and almost bragging. Ryan kinda didn’t mind.
Besides, when Brendon had opened his present and seen the Martin D-15, Ryan
knew he’d made his own mark. Ray had gotten Brendon a giant fucking sweater
that had reindeer on it and it was totally ridiculous and Brendon had smiled so
wide when he felt how soft it was and tugged off his t-shirt to pull the
sweater on instead. Ryan had glanced around to see everyones’ reactions when
they saw just how starved Brendon was, and none of them surprised him. Horror
and disgust was the main response. Ryan couldn’t blame them, but Brendon was
still beautiful.
Frank had gotten Brendon a fucking iPod, jesus, and some really fucking good
headphones. There was nothing on it, and Frank had gone into this huge speech
about how you put what you wanted on the phone because that was what showed who
you were as a person and what you were interested in. Ryan didn’t disagree, but
he also didn’t think it was so dramatic and important. Brendon had stared at
the screen like he was from the stone age, and honestly, he probably was,
equivocally. Brendon had probably never even seen a computer before. Which was
great, because Gerard got him a fucking computer. Two, actually
They weren’t cheap, either. They were really, really nice. One was a Macbook
Pro with the CD-drive installed and over two hundred gigabytes of memory, and
then he got him a Mac Mini.
“It’s got Logic on there too,” Gerard said with a proud grin. Over Brendon’s
excited head, Ryan mouthed the question, ‘how much?’ Gerard had just shrugged,
and Ryan really felt kinda bad. He felt even worse when he opened his present
from Gerard and found the same fucking combo. So did Mikey.
“You guys have a band now,” Gerard said for explanation. “You’re gonna need all
the tools, and they’re good computers! They’ll really be able to help, I hope.”
“Oh my god, Gee,” Mikey gasped, getting up and barreling into his brother,
hugging him so hard that Gerard let out this noise of startled pain, though he
didn’t push away, and Mikey wasn’t going to end the hug anytime soon, form the
looks of it. “You’re the best big brother ever!” Mikey laughed. He kissed his
brother’s cheek with a loud smack and Gerard giggled, then tickled his
brothers’ sides. Mikey thrashed around and accidentally kicked over Ray’s
drink. None of them really seemed to care. They were moving out soon anyways,
so whatever.
“My gift to Brendon seems like shit now,” Mikey giggled. “Everyone got him cool
stuff! I just got him a ukulele.”
Brendon perked up. “What’s that?” he asked. “I-I like the name.”
Mikey grinned and handed him the boxed gift. Brendon opened the wrapping paper,
then the box carefully, like he’d done with the guitar. He gasped when he saw
the ukulele, and Ryan was a bit surprised. It was a Luna, but a concert
ukulele, and there was the name “Tiki” along the frets. It was white and pearl
and gorgeously decorated. Ryan was a little in love with it, and his heart
stuttered when Brendon brought the instrument to his lap and strummed. He
didn’t know what he was doing, obviously, but the chord he managed to play
brought a wide smile to Brendon’s lips.
“Thank you,” Brendon told Mikey. “Thank you,” he then told everyone. Brendon
turned a bit to look to Ryan and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you,” Ryan said automatically, because it was the truth.
“We should put on some Christmas music,” Mikey offered.
“No, no, no,” Ryan denied almost frantically. Mikey raised a brow at Ryan, and
Ryan winced. “I-I just want Brendon’s first song to be something that isn’t
dripping with sugarcane and catchy tunes. I want it to have sustenance, you
know? I want it to mean something.”
Mikey slowly smirked. “That’s adorable, Ry-baby.”
“Ry-baby?” Brendon repeated. “What’s that?”
“A nickname,” Ray said.
“A nickname? Like when you call me B?” Brendon looked to Ryan with the same
curiosity that had been filling his eyes since the airport. “Is that what a
nickname is? I feel like I’ve asked you this before, right? You know what I’m
talking about?”
Ryan grinned and nodded. “B is your nickname,” he affirmed.
“And baby,” Brendon giggled.
Ryan blushed a bit and Mikey snickered. “He calls you baby?” Mikey asked
Brendon. “That’s adorable.”
Brendon nodded. “I like it.”
“Oh my god, Mikey!” Gerard suddenly gasped. “We need to do the—!” He cut
himself off, eyes darting around like he felt guilty about something. “We gotta
do the thing!” he hissed. Mikey snorted and rolled his eyes.
“You’re about as subtle as a heart attack,” Mikey groaned as he stood and went
to the kitchen. Gerard followed him.
Frank was grinning like he knew what was going on, and Ray had a poker face
that Ryan wasn’t aware he actually had. Ray usually wore his heart on his
sleeve and his thoughts on his forehead. Ryan was surprised Ray could hide
anything from anyone. It wasn’t a negative trait, and Ryan really liked Ray for
being open with everything, he was just really shocked that Ray could actually
keep his expression under control. Ray obviously knew what they were talking
about. Ray knew fucking everything.
“What’re they talking about?” Brendon asked Ryan.
Ryan shook his head. “No clue.”
Brendon nodded, running his fingers over the soft fabric of the sweater. “I
like your family,” he told Ryan.
“Our family,” Frank corrected thoughtlessly, like it was second nature. Ryan
grinned at the back of Frank’s head as Frank cleaned up the ground around him.
Frank was wearing the Misfits beanie Ryan had gotten him with absolute pride,
and was taking a selfie with it. Ryan could see the image on Frank’s screen and
snickered when he saw Frank was duck-facing, just for shits and giggles.
Mikey comes back with a smug smile on his face. “Hey, Ryan,” he said. “You and
Brendon should come into the dining room.”
Ryan just rolled his eyes, figuring something was set up on the table or
whatever. Brendon took the cue from him and stood with Ryan.
“What is this about?” Brendon asked Ryan quietly. Frank also got up and darted
into the kitchen/dining area. Ray was staying put, but he was watching them
expectantly. Ryan narrowed his eyes suspiciously and put an arm around
Brendon’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, “But it’ll be fine.”
Brendon grinned and nodded. “Can I hold your hands? That’s what couples do. I
wanna hold your hand.”
“Oh my god,” Ray giggled.
Ryan smiled and he moved his arm from around Brendon to hold Brendon’s hand.
“Anything for you,” he said again. He started head towards the dining area, but
right when they got under the arch, Frank was standing in front of them,
snickering. “What the fuck are you doing, Frankie?” Ryan asked with a frown.
Frank pointed up and Ryan knew what it was before he even actually looked.
“You didn’t,” he groaned.
“We did,” Frank cackled.
Brendon was looking up with wide eyes. “Why are there leaves hanging from the
ceiling?”
“It’s called mistletoe,” Gerard giggled. “You’re supposed to kiss the person
next to you if you’re under it.”
“It’s tradition,” Mikey added. “So you have to do it.”
“Guys, this isn’t appropriate,” Ryan huffed.
“What?” Frank scoffed. “Why isn’t it? You can’t tell me that you guys haven’t
kissed yet.”
Ryan frowned at him.
Frank nodded slowly. “You totally haven’t kissed yet. That’s so vanilla.”
“He’s sixteen,” Ryan reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Frank said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t just kiss him. I
know you want to.”
“I wanna kiss you too,” Brendon chimed in, looking up at Brendon with a blush
and a smile. “Can I kiss you? I-I’ve wanted to kiss you since I got here.” He
looked down at his toes. “I just figured you wouldn’t want that yet.”
“Jesus,” Ryan breathed, unable to make these moral decisions, not when he could
feel Brendon’s body against his side.
“You should kiss him,” Gerard insisted. “It’ll be cute. First kiss on
Christmas!”
Brendon tapped Ryan’s shoulder for attention. When Ryan turned to look at him,
Brendon curled his fingers in the front of Ryan’s shirt and pulled him down
while going up on his own toes to kiss Ryan sweetly.
Ryan knew something was wrong when his stomach churned at the touch.
He pulled away from the kiss and sent Brendon a tight smile that Brendon
mistook for genuine.
This wasn’t good.
. . .
Ryan knew what song he first wanted Brendon to hear a few hours later.
“Lemme show you,” Ryan murmured.
Brendon sat on the bed beside him after abandoning his own laptop to sit in
front of Ryan’s laptop. Ryan had iTunes pulled up and was navigating to the few
songs he had by Peter Gabriel. He didn’t usually enjoy most of Peter Gabriel’s
music, but a few songs made the exception, and this one, in particular, was a
favorite of Ryan’s for years. It was originally by Arcade Fire, but Ryan
preferred this cover.
“What’s it called?” Brendon asked.
“My Body is a Cage,” Ryan responded softly, before turning up the volume and
let the soft, melancholic chimes of the piano fill the silence of the room.
Ryan watched Brendon’s expression as he took in the broken voice that was
singing these words that gave Ryan chills, sometimes made him cry if he felt
broken enough. He knew what it was like. He knew the words of this song like he
knew his own thoughts.
“I like it,” Brendon whispered. “… Could you give it to me? For, for my, uh… My
phone?”
Ryan nodded.
Brendon kept listening. “That line,” he mumbled. “Can, can you play it again?
Or tell me what it was?”
“We take what we are given,” Ryan recited softly. “Just because you’ve
forgotten doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”
“Keep going?” Brendon requested.
“I’m living in an age that screams my name at night. But when I get to the
doorway, there’s no one in sight. I’m living in an age. They laugh when I’m
dancing with the one I love, but my mind holds the key. You’re standing next to
me. My mind holds the key. Set my spirit free.
“That’s how I felt,” Brendon said. “After waking up. I could hear you saying my
name, but you were never there. Everyone laughed at me or hated me for having
you. And, and I could only see you in my own mind.” He smiled. “I want to do
that. I wanna make music that helps other people get up in the day.”
Ryan smiled with him. “I think I can help you with that.”
. . .
Ryan first heard Brendon sing a week later. He was teaching Brendon how to play
guitar, as he did for a few hours every day, when suddenly Brendon had
struggled to ask Ryan to help him play a certain sound, so he’d sung it.
And holy shit, Brendon could fucking sing.
He could sing like fucking Patrick.
“Mikey!” Ryan had suddenly cried out. He was smiling wide with excitement.
Mikey came rushing in without a shirt and claw marks down his back and chest.
His hair was a fucking mess, and Ryan narrowed his eyes at how fucking sleepy
Mikey looked.
Brendon gasped. “Are you hurt?”
Mikey just grinned, appearing satisfied. “Fucking perfect, B,” he replied.
“What’s up, Ry?”
“B, B, sing the way you sang for me just now.”
Brendon hesitated for only a second before opening his mouth and singing the
same three notes, a chord progression Brendon had heard on the radio, with the
lungs of a fucking god.
Mikey laughed. “Dude, we have our fucking singer!”
“Your singer?” Brendon repeated. Ryan loved how Brendon repeated everything,
learning about the world for the first time.
“Fuck me like a slut on free anal day,” Mikey giggled. “He’s fucking amazing,
Ryan! Listen to those pipes!”
“Pipes?” Brendon repeated. “I don’t have any pipes.”
“You have a strong voice, and we sometimes call a voice pipes, because it can
come from our wind pipes, in a way,” Ryan told Brendon with a patient smile.
Brendon nodded slowly, like he was pretending to understand.
“Does he want me to be your singer?” Brendon asked.
Ryan smirked. “He does. And so do you. It doesn’t take much training to sing if
you’ve got the gift, which you do.”
“How do you know that I have the gift?”
“Because we can hear it,” Ryan replied softly. “We can hear it when you sing,
even when you talk, once we know it’s there. And we’d like you to sing for us.
For the music we make. We think you’d be really good at it.”
Brendon looked almost nervous.
“What’s wrong?” Mikey asked.
“Yeah, what’s wrong, baby?”
Brendon shrugged. “What if I’m not good a-and you make me leave?”
Mikey scoffed and Ryan was a little hurt, but this was also to be expected.
Brendon’s sense of self worth was basically nonexistent, no matter how much
Ryan told him he loved him. It was going to be an issue for a very, very long
time, Ryan knew that. He just had to always repeat what Brendon meant to him so
there would never be any doubt in his mind.
“You’re not leaving me,” Ryan said softly. “I would never make you leave.
You’re with me, through and through. I’ll sew my hand to your favorite sweater
if I have to. Anything to make you realize that I’m not leaving you, and you’re
not leaving me.”
Brendon smiled sadly, and nodded.
“We should talk to Josh,” Mikey said cautiously.
Ryan hesitated. He’d been scared to introduce Josh to Brendon, and vice versa.
He knew it was wrong, almost cruel. He knew he’d been avoiding one of the most
important people in the world to him in favor of another, and he knew that in
doing so, he was going against the very thing he’d preached just a week ago.
Ryan was a monstrous hypocrite, and an asshole, and he didn’t deserve Josh.
Josh deserved better, even.
Josh deserved Debby.
Ryan shuddered as he thought of how broken Josh had been when he’d met the
other man in the hospital, lied out on the bed, vulnerable to anything. Josh
was strong, one of the strongest people Ryan had ever known, because Ryan knew
that he would’ve just ended it if Brendon had died. The promises he’d made to
stay would’ve meant nothing to him at that point. But Josh was different.
Josh just kept fucking going. He put himself out there, time and time again,
exposing himself to the cruel world that had killed the love of his life. Josh
kept fucking going, kept smiling at the sun kept singing along to the radio,
and kept making some of the weirdest jokes Ryan had ever heard. Josh was the
fucking strongest and Ryan didn’t deserve him, and Josh definitely didn’t
deserve to be ignored.
“I have to call him,” Ryan said. “I’m going to call him.
“What?” Brendon asked.
Ryan stood after pecking Brendon’s lips. “I’m gonna call Josh, I’ll be back in
a second. Mikey, you should teach him bass.”
Mikey perked up and sat in front of Brendon. “Let’s learn something, Beebo.”
Ryan wasn’t worried about leaving Brendon with Mikey, because they got along
pretty well and Mikey was really good at making Brendon laugh with his
awkwardness, and really, Mikey was good at making everyone laugh with his
awkwardness as long as he didn’t get himself hurt, like the toaster accident.
Ryan went to the kitchen and dialed Josh’s number.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” was the first thing he said to Josh once Josh had
picked up.
“… Well, hello to you too, Ry.”
“I’m really sorry,” he continued. “I, I don’t know why I’ve been ignoring you.
I mean, I do know why, and it’s a shitty and stupid reasons, and I don’t know
why I’m such an asshole. I’m such a fucking asshole, Josh, I’m so sorry.”
Josh chuckled softly.“Dude, it’s only been a week. You realized what you were
doing, and you apologized. Better than what most people would do.” Ryan heard a
clatter through the phone, like he was standing up, then Josh was speaking
again. “I mean, you’re a good guy, and an even better friend. I understand why
you weren’t talking to me. I honestly expected it to last longer.” Ryan could
hear the smile in his voice. He sounded relieved. “Only a week? Jesus, Ryan,
you’re a swell guy.”
“I’m not,” he whimpered. “I ignored you, jesus! After I promised I wouldn’t!”
“I don’t see it as you ignoring me because you’re spiteful or mean,” Josh said
softly, obviously trying to alleviate Ryan’s guilt. “You were doing it for me
and for Brendon, not yourself. You were thinking of us. You were trying to
protect Brendon and you were trying to help me. Not sure why you wanted to help
me, but I know you, okay? I know you weren’t doing it for yourself, because
you’ve never known how to do anything for yourself.”
Ryan winced, because Josh was kinda right. “I just, I-I didn’t know if it would
hurt you to have my attention on someone else. And I don’t know how to tell
Brendon what happened between us yet. But I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not
ashamed of you.” He blushed faintly. “You were there for me in a way that he
wasn’t, you know? Because he couldn’t be. And I needed you, and I think you
needed me, and that was it.”
“That was it,” Josh agreed softly.
“I’m really sorry,” he whimpered.
“I know, Ry,”Josh hummed. “And I forgive you, even though I wasn’t even upset.
No harm, no foul, okay? I’m not holding it against you, and I never will.”
“I love you, Joshy,” Ryan said.
“I love you too, RyRo,” Josh replied happily.
“You need to come here,” Ryan said. “We, we have a singer! It’s Brendon!
Brendon, he, he can fucking sing, oh my god, he sounds fucking beautiful. And,
and Mikey wants him in the band, and I kinda want him in the band, because he
sounds so good, you know?” Ryan smiled shakily. “He sounds so good…”
“Oh my god,” Josh chuckled. “You’re so in love.”
Ryan blushed.
“It’s so good to hear you so happy, Ry,” Josh hummed. “You deserve a break, you
know? And you’ve got it, and I think it’s gonna last a long while, yeah? It’s
totally awesome right now, and I really like it.” Josh was audibly grinning.
“You’re so fucking deserving of this, Ryan. I love this. I love hearing you
like this. You being happy makes me happy.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Ryan said, because it was the truth. “No one really
does, you know that, right? You're an infinitely good person, and that’s all
there is to it. Unconditional love to the people you chose to give it to, and
that’s amazing. I just, thank you for being you.”
“Absolutely,” Josh hummed. “I’m coming over. I gotta hear Brendon’s voice.”
“Yeah?” Ryan asked, excited. “Now?”
“I mean, if that’s okay,” Josh replied. “I’d like to meet him.”
“Oh my god, yes,” Ryan said. “Yes, please. I, I know you guys will get along.”
“Sweet,” Josh said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
. . .
“Okay, okay, so, Brendon actually already knows two songs because he’s
amazing,” Mikey said as Ryan entered the room with Josh in tow. Ryan had kinda
just waited outside to see Josh, because he really needed a hug from the guy,
and Josh delivered. Josh gave the second best hugs in the world, because Ray’s
hugs were the actual best. He was big and broad and made you feel safe, and it
was just awesome. But Ryan loved Josh’s hugs just as much.
Now they were in Ryan and Brendon’s room, Mikey had his own base in his lap,
and Brendon had nothing in his hands, but there was a smile on his face, and he
looked really proud, or at least, hopeful that Ryan would be proud.
“Which songs?” Ryan asked.
“The, the one you showed me!” Brendon announced, grinning. “The one by Pete and
Patrick’s band! That, that one about wondering where the girlfriend is, or
something. That you said might be about Mikey? Or someone.”
Mikey snorted. “You think Grand Theft Autumn is about me?”
“I’d believe it,” Josh said. “Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a
gentleman? He’s totally taking about fucking someone while their other person
is gone or whatever. It’s totally about you, Mikey.”
“Or Ryan,” Mikey pointed out. “They fucked too.”
“No, Ryan fucked Spencer,” Josh snorted.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Mikey said.
Brendon frowned and looked to Ryan. “You had… the, the sex? With Spencer?”
“The sex,” Mikey repeated with a giggle.
“Why did you have the sex with Spencer?” Brendon asked with an upturned brow.
“I thought that was just with your special person.”
Ryan winced and had half a mind to chew out Mikey out to get Brendon’s
attention off of the sex topic, but that would be underhand and possibly teach
Brendon to avoid things he wanted others to forget about, which wasn’t
necessarily a good trait or habit to have. He sighed and prepared himself for
the sex talk that he had been hoping to avoid.
“You, you can have sex with other people as long as it’s consensual,” he told
Brendon carefully, not wanting to give too much away. “It’s fine, really. It
just won’t mean the same thing as when you’re with your soulmate.” He didn’t
want to say it wouldn’t be as important, because he didn’t see the nights he
shared with Josh as less important. He just wanted to let Brendon know that
there was a difference.
“You have sex with other people,” Josh chimed in. “You make love with your
soulmate.”
Ryan winced at how cheesy that phrase was, but Josh was right, and he’d said it
in the most simple way possible that Brendon would definitely understand. After
years of neglect and abuse, Brendon knew what love was better than most.
Brendon nodded slowly, looking a little less upset. “So, so Ryan didn’t make
love to Spencer? He just had the sex with him.”
“Sex,” Mikey cut in. “Just sex, no “the” sex. It doesn’t need that article.”
Brendon nodded again. “But, but Ryan just had sex with Spencer.”
“Exactly,” Ryan said, relieved to have gotten out of this so easily.
“Ryan would only ever make love to Brendon,” Josh said, sending Ryan a teasing
smirk. Ryan flipped him off from behind his back. “He’s in love with you, and
that’s it, absolutely, to the end.” They’d been saying that quite often,
lately. Ryan liked to appreciate the connotation. “So don’t worry, Brendon.
Especially since you’re here. You’re all he needs.”
“Who’re you?” Brendon asked.
“That’s Josh,” Ryan said. “He’s family.”
Josh perked up and Brendon looked to Josh and smiled and held out his hand, as
Ray had taught him to do.
“I’m Brendon,” he introduced, shaking Josh’s hand when their hands met.
“Josh Dun,” Josh giggled.
“You’re done?” Brendon asked. “Done with what? Why are you done?”
Mikey laughed into his palm and Josh just grinned.
“My last name is Dun,” he explained. “D-U-N. That’s it.”
“Oh,” Brendon murmured. “Like Ryan’s last name is Ross? And Mikey is Mikey Way?
And so are Gerard and Frank?”
“Exactly,” Josh hummed. “So will Ray’s last name. He’ll be Ray Way soon.”
Brendon smiled. “I’m glad I get to be there for the wedding. I’ve never been to
a wedding before. Who’s gonna be the bride?”
“Oh my god, me,” Mikey told him without hesitation. “I’m gonna be in a dress
and everything, and it’s gonna be so hot. Gonna wear lingerie and lace garters
and I’m gonna go the whole nine yards. Gonna do a lap dance for the first dance
and he’s gonna fuck my brains out tha—”
“Stop fucking talking, jesus,” Ryan choked out, actually moving to cover
Brendon’s ears.
Brendon was blushing faintly as he listened to Mikey with rapt attention.
“What’s lingerie?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan choked out, while Mikey just looked so fucking pleased with
himself. “It, it’s nothing, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’ve heard Gerard say it to Frank while they were kissing on the couch without
shirts on,” Brendon said, so fucking innocent. Ryan would bet money that if
Frank and Gerard had been naked together, they definitely weren’t just kissing.
“Gerard said something about dressing up for Frank. Is that what Mikey’s
talking about? Should I wear lingerie for Ryan?”
Ryan grimaced at the idea, but didn’t say anything.
Josh laughed. “Why don’t we hear this song of yours, Brendon?”
Oh, thank god, Ryan loved Josh so much.
Brendon nodded eagerly. “I learned I Will.”
Ryan felt kinda like he’d been punched in the gut and given the greatest, most
thoughtful gift in the world at the same time. He knew that song like he knew
his own heartbeat, he knew every song Beatles’ song like they were his own
words, because he’d spent his whole life wishing they were and had fought sleep
just to write something close to the genius he’d had playing in his ear his
whole life.
“I just, I wanted to, like, find the words? That I feel when I think about
you.” Brendon grinned shyly, ducking his head and hiding behind bushy, heavy
hair. Ryan still needed to get him a haircut. “You seemed to love these songs a
lot… I don’t know, I just wanted you to smile for me the way you smile for the
song.”
“Sing it,” Mikey prodded, because Ryan couldn’t really speak past a huge lump
in his throat and it was very difficult to think outside the gesture that Ryan
hadn’t even imagined would be this amazing.
Brendon hesitated, but only for a second. He did what he always did when he
needed to gather some sort of courage for doing a task. Brendon looked to Ryan,
then took in a deep breath and began to sing, albeit, shakily at first.
"Will I wait a lonely lifetime time? If you want me to, I will...love you
forever and forever.” And holy shit, this was good. At first, Brendon’s voice
and wavered, like it always would, but it only took a few words for Brendon
toga confidence. Probably because he sounded fucking majestic and Josh kinda
looked like he was going to start clapping or something, and Mikey was just
enamored and looking at Brendon with giant fucking hearts in his eyes or his
pupils or something. Not literally, but Ryan could see them in his eyebrows or
whatever.“Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love
you when we're apart...And when at last I find you, your song will fill the
air…”
Brendon trailed off, looking like he wanted verbal confirmation that he was
doing well, even though their expressions showed enough.
“Fucking radical,” Josh giggled. “We need you. Like, we, we need you. Please
sing for us. They’re Ryan’s and Mikey’s and my words and shit, and it’ll be so
good. Please sing for us? We’ll pay you and shit, cause it’s your voice. You’ll
part of the band. You’ll be the face of the band. You’re a face. You are the
face. Be our voice?”
Brendon grinned and nodded, kinda blushing a bit, like Josh’s praise was making
him shy. It shouldn’t. Brendon sounded amazing and he needed to know that
better than anything else, better than any other concept. Brendon’s talent
should be household knowledge. Ryan was going to make Brendon’s talent
household knowledge.
“You’re gonna be our singer?” Ryan asked, just to make sure.
Brendon smiled brightly and nodded.
. . .
“Why won’t you kiss me?” Brendon asked, sounding really frustrated. Ryan was
lying in bed beside Brendon, and looking away with a steadfast expression,
because Brendon was lying in bed beside him and touching himself, full-blown
masturbating, with soft breaths and moans and a wanton expression. Despite the
obvious pleasure Brendon was feeling, he still sounded pissed.
Ryan shut his eyes against the disappointment he felt towards himself and tried
to think up an excuse that didn’t involve the fact that he couldn't bring
himself to even feel attracted to the boy. Every time Brendon tried to initiate
anything even remotely unsavory, Ryan felt his skin crawl. Every part of his
body screamed, “do not touch,” when it came to Brendon, and Ryan was sick to
realize that Gerard had been right. He’d spent so long rewiring his brain to
deny himself his soulmate, that now he couldn’t even consider being with him
intimately.
Everything was so fucking fucked.
“What’s wrong with me?” Brendon asked with a hint of brokenness. “I mean, it is
me, right? There’s something about me that you don’t find attractive or
desirable. You don’t actually want me, right? You, you brought me here for…” He
shook his head. “I-I’m not sure for what. Can you please help me? Help me
understand?”
“I don’t understand it either,” Ryan said uselessly, feeling like shit. “I, I’m
sorry.”
Brendon scowled. “That’s not good enough.”
Ryan flinched and looked away, hating himself and hating this.
Brendon rolled away and ignored Ryan for the rest of the night.
Ryan almost started to think this was a dream again.
. . .
“What are fireworks?” Brendon asked from his beanie bag chair. They had eight
beanie bag chairs now and they were packing the house. Moving day was in two
weeks, but Ryan had wanted Brendon to see fireworks against the snow. He knew
Brendon had never seen fireworks because he’d always been in the woods whenever
they would be set off. Ryan wanted Brendon to see the colors. He hoped the loud
noises wouldn’t hurt too much.
“Fireworks are chemical explosions in the sky that create colors and patterns
and we use them for celebrations,” Ryan said. He played with Brendon’s fingers,
trying to forget how fucking up things were. How even this touch made him feel
clammy and uncomfortable.
“Chemicals?” Brendon repeated. “Like the stuff we use to clean the floors and
counters?
Ryan shrugged. “Something like those,” he replied as he flicked through the
channels to find something that would numb his mind like he needed. “They’re
not chemicals we can get our hands on, that anyone could get their hands on,
legally. But you’re able to buy fireworks during certain times of the year.”
Brendon smiled a bit. “Can we get some now?”
Ryan paused, thinking. “I don’t see why not.”
. . .
“Okay, so we’re not going to let Mikey set one off, because that’s just fucking
dumb,” Frank snickered. “It would be stupid to let the person who stuck a fork
in the toaster set off a fucking firework, and I’m not into catching anything
on fire, or catching myself on fire, so none for Mikey!”
Brendon giggled and looked to Mikey for his rebuttal or defense. “Fuck you,
Frank,” Mikey drawled, his middle finger in the air. “I have skills. Skills
you’d only dream of having.”
“Skills including the ability to willingly lick an electric socket,” Gerard
giggled. “I mean, it wasn’t even a dare, because no one would be stupid enough
to dare you to do that, and you just tried to fucking stick your tongue in
there!” Gerard was unboxing a bunch of sparklers and poppers. “It was so scary,
Mikey, I just grabbed your ankle and pulled you away. You almost died, Mikey. I
almost lost my precious baby brother to his own stupid ideas.”
“I just wanted to see if I could make it slippery so I could fit my fucking
charger, god,” Mikey said, though he was grinning, and Ryan knew Mikey also
knew he’d been fucking stupid back then. He still kinda was.
“Fuck, get back, get back!” Josh was suddenly shouting form where he’d been
prepping a cluster of fireworks.
Brendon scrambled away, already giggling, because Brendon was either in a
constant state of laughter or curiosity. Mikey was right behind him, but Ray
and Ryan had shitty reaction time and both just looked to see what it was they
were supposed to be running from. Ray ducked with a yelp and Ryan felt the air
on his arm singe away as a rocket shot right past him.
Ryan just kinda sat there, scared to move. Being still had saved him last time.
Hopefully he wouldn’t die.
“What the fuck, Frank!” Gerard shouted, laughing. “You almost killed Ryan!”
“Can I move?” Ryan asked, voice cracking. He jumped when there was a stomach
and chest suddenly pressed against his back. Ryan snapped his neck around, then
smiled when he saw Brendon, who was grinning. “Can I move?” he asked Brendon,
feeling better.
“Of course!” Brendon ducked his head in and kissed Ryan’s cheek.
“When do the actual fireworks start?” Mikey asked. He was putting his gloves
back on, apparently deciding that the warmth they provided was more important
than their threat of flammability.
“In an hour,” Ray told Mikey, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around
Mikey’s waist and rest his chin on Mikey’s head. “We were gonna grab the car
and maybe get some better seats, yeah? Maybe find someplace that has outdoor
seating with food and stuff. We can get hot chocolate and stay warm and watch
the clock come down.”
“What are we happy about again?” Brendon asked.
“The new year,” Gerard supplied, always one of the most eager people to help
answer Brendon’s questions. Gerard fucking loved helping Brendon. It was kinda
the sweetest thing ever to Ryan. “We’re celebrating the end of this year and
going into the next. It’s always a really big deal, at least in America. We’ve
got balls that drop and everyone counts down and wears stuff with the upcoming
year on it, and there are television shows and music shows and all kinda of
shows and it’s just a lot of fun to spend time with your friends and family and
there’s the deal of the first kiss of the year and it’s cute and stuff, and I
like it a lot, because it’s when people make resolutions for the new year with
new ideas and hopes and dreams and it’s super important, if you want it to be.”
Brendon nodded. “I wish Sarah was here. My first kiss of the year would be
her.”
Ryan looked away.
. . .
Brendon had a nightmare the night before they left for LA.
It was a bad one.
Ryan woke up to him crying out, actually fucking screaming, writhing and
thrashing out into the darkness like he was trying to fend away some monster
Ryan couldn’t see. Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to see it.
Brendon was just so fucking scared and the next swipe into nothing turned up
something. Brendon’s nails dragged across Ryan’s arm, tearing open the skin,
and Ryan made a mental note to get the kid to clip his fucking nails.
The blood seeped into the sheets and Ryan tried to reach Brendon and calm him
down, but ended up getting knuckles in his eye, and then a fist to his mouth.
Blood slid between Ryan’s lips and he gagged at the taste. The screaming kept
coming and Ryan didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t wake Brendon, he couldn’t
even get closer than arm’s length.
“Ryan!” Gerard gasped as he burst into the room, switching on the lights. Ryan
seized the new level of visibility and gathered up the comforter, throwing it
over Brendon’s body. He climbed on top of Brendon and pinned down his flailing
arms, yelling Brendon’s name.
Brendon suddenly became very quiet and very still.
“… Sarah?”
Ryan swallowed hard and recoiled.
Gerard moved forward and wrapped Brendon up in his arms. “Go, go sleep with
Frank,” Gerard told Ryan, looking shellshocked. He’d heard the name Brendon had
said too. He looked like he couldn't even process it. “I, I can handle this.”
Gerard didn’t want Ryan to have to be around Brendon right now.
Ryan nodded his dismal gratitude and left.
. . .
Josh showed up that morning with a duffel bag and a sheepish expression.
Ryan didn’t need him to say a fucking word. He just smiled and wrapped his arms
around Josh and promised that they’d get an extra bed frame so he could stay in
the guesthouse with him and Brendon. Everything was so broken and shattered and
it was falling to pieces right before Ryan’s eyes. Brendon came forward and
pulled Josh away without a word to Ryan, leaving Ryan to look around the home
one last time so he wouldn't have to think about the way Brendon was shunning
him.
It had been his saving grace when Pete had thrown him aside. Horrible memories
had been made in this place. A suicide attempt, loss of life, loss of hope and
will to live.
But Gerard had proposed in this house, in this very room. Mikey had moved back
to this place after leaving LA. The horrible had been met with the bad, head
on, and neither buckled. Ryan was happy to leave, but he was sad to go. This
house was his home, and he would never be able to forget it, no matter how hard
he tried.
He was scared that the new home would hold only anxious misery.
Ryan collected the last of his things and grabbed Josh’s bags and left.
. . .
“This house is amazing,” Mikey giggled, looking around.
Ryan nodded his agreement as he passed Mikey, taking his bags through the house
and straight into the back, crossing the lawn to get to the guest house. He
wasn’t looking at much. He wasn’t really looking at anything. The drive had
been long and arduous and he was just so very tired. Brendon had made a point
of talking over Ryan, interrupting him in the conversation and, at one point,
rolling his eyes at something Ryan had said about the passing scenery.
He was tired and his heart was heavy.
Ryan put the bags down in the living room and went back for the rest, but
stopped short in his tracks when he nearly ran into Josh, who was standing in
the doorway, wearing a concerned expression.
“What the fuck is up with Brendon?” Josh asked. “And you. What the fuck is up
with you guys?”
Ryan shook his head, just wanting to ignore the question. He brushed past Josh,
hoping Josh would take that as the end of it, but quickly realized that Josh
wasn’t going to let this go, because he was following Ryan.
“You gotta talk to me, Ry,” Josh was saying. Ryan stared at the grass bending
under his steps and clenched his jaw. “You know that I’ve always been here for
you. You know that I’ll never turn you away over anything. If you and Brendon
are having problems, then that’s normal. Every couple has their hiccups. You
can talk to someone about this, Ryan. None of us would ever look down on you
for any of this.”
“Please stop,” Ryan choked out.
“Uh, no,” Josh denied automatically. Ryan hated how he somehow knew only the
most stubborn people in the world. “No, Ryan, I’m going fuck all anywhere. I’m
here and I’m queer, so get used to it.”
Ryan managed a smile at Josh’s babbling. “Glad you’re out of the closet.”
He heard Josh jog a little to catch up with him.
“I really am here for you, Ryan,” he promised. “In every way, okay?” Josh
pressed their shoulders together. “I love you, RyRo. No matter what happens, I
love you. I followed you across the country, and I’ll follow you over a cliff
if I have to. Our family will make a rope. We wouldn’t hit the rocks, but
either way, even if we would, I’m still coming after you.”
Ryan nodded. “I-I don’t know if there’s a problem or not,” he lied. “I’ll… I’ll
tell you if there is.”
Josh then nodded. “Thank you.”
. . .
“I don’t want to sleep next to you tonight,” Brendon said stiffly.
Ryan’s hands began to shake and he dropped his paper plate with his hot dog on
it. He’d just gone to the kitchen to get seconds, everyone else was in the
dining room, so there was no way he could finish this conversation and avoid
everyone else. They were going to, at the very least, hear Ryan break down.
“You don’t like to even hold my hand anymore,” Brendon said, standing rigidly
behind Ryan, not letting him run if he tried. “And you won’t tell me why. And
that doesn’t even make me upset, to tell you the truth. I mean, I’m indifferent
at this point. At first, I was upset. But then I realized that I want Sarah.
Just Sarah. So I don't care.”
Ryan finally turned around to face Brendon, his expression void of all emotion.
Brendon shrugged. “You and I never did more than kiss. Maybe that’s all I ever
wanted from you in the first place.”
Ryan nodded.
“So where are you gonna sleep?” Brendon asked him.
“With me,” Josh said from the entrance way. His arms were crossed and he looked
very, very angry. “Ryan’s just gonna stay in my room, with me. You can work out
your problems, and Ryan can work out his.”
Brendon smiled a bit. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Josh looked like he wanted to break bones. “Sounds fucking awesome.”
. . .
Ryan fell asleep crying with Josh’s chest pressed to his back.
. . .
“I came because I knew I belonged with you,” Josh sighed. “Just, I don’t know.
Tyler and I are thick as thieves, and we’re so close that we don’t really even
have to be in the same country. We’re close no matter what. I don’t have to
live on the same block as him to feel like I could finish his sentences. And
he’s got a lot of shit he wants to work towards. He has the food trucks and
Jenna and they’re talking about having kids. I can’t be around for that. I
mean, I can. I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to imagine what could
have been with Debby. I want a new life. One without her ghost.”
Ryan nodded to show he understood, tracing his fingers up and down the
metacarpals of Josh’s hand.
Josh sighed again. “I just want to find something,” he murmured. “Someone. A
person like you, you know? Not you, exactly, I’d prefer a vagina, if I can pick
and choose. I mean, if I happened to fall in love with a guy, that’s cool. I
can work a dick, you know that.”
Ryan snorted and Josh looked so fucking proud of himself, though Ryan wasn't
sure if the pride was over making Ryan laugh a little, or being able to do the
gay shit with confidence.
“It’s really okay with me if it’s a guy,” Josh continued. “I’m not picky
anymore. I hadn't considered it before Debby, because I had Debby. Debby had a
vagina, end of story, she was a chick with an awesome set and a smile that
could outshine the sun.” Josh was quiet for a moment. “… I’m just scared that
having a soulmate means there’s only one person out there who’s any good for
you. I’m scared that I’m not meant for anyone else.” HIs voice was getting
choked up like he was beginning to cry. “What if Debby was the only person who
could put up with me?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Ryan said softly. “You and I were really
good together.”
“Except you have Brendon,” Josh replied. “You were done with me and went to
him.”
“No, no,” Ryan mumbled. He sat up and straddled Josh’s waist because Josh was
familiar and comforting and they were close, always would be. Ryan had to keep
Josh here so Ryan could talk to him. “I… I don’t know what’s going to happen
with Brendon.”
Josh looked up at Ryan with tears in his eyes, his lower lip trembling. “I-
I don’t want to lose you to anyone. And I don’t want to be so broken I can’t
find someone who can really love me.”
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Ryan promised. “You’re not gonna lose anyone to
anything, okay? You’ve got Tyler and you’ve got Jenna and you’ve got me. You’ve
also got every single person on this property. Frank adores you and Mikey would
ask me when you’d be coming over and he’d get so fucking excited every time I
told him. Ray thinks you're the bee's knees and Gerard sketches you when you're
not looking because he thinks he's super stealth like that. You’ve got us,
Joshy. And you’re always gonna have us, because we love you, okay? You’ve saved
me. You’ve kept me alive, and that’s fucking huge. And I’m gonna keep saying
it, okay? I'm gonna keep saying family. Family. Family, family, family. We’re
family. You’re my family.”
Josh let out a sob, then covered his mouth as he nodded. Ryan lied down beside
Josh and wrapped his arms around him. “You’re Josh fucking Dun,” he said. “And
I’m just Ryan Ross. I’m lucky to have you, and I’ll always need you. You’re
gonna find a great girl out here. Or boy.”
“Or boy,” Josh replied with a tiny smile.
“Or boy,” Ryan affirmed. “A really sexy boy. How likes it up the butt and stuff
and you’ll make cute gay babies and you’ll suck his dick twice a month.”
Josh choked on a laugh. “Let’s, let’s just plan on this person having a vagina,
please.”
“Oh, totally,” Ryan drawled. “You’re such a lady’s man. You’re gonna have all
of those vaginas, all of your face. She’s beauty, she’s grace, she wants to sit
on Josh’s face. Or Pete’s face. Anyone’s face. Girls love sitting on faces, you
know? It feels good and shit and whatever, I don’t actually know, because I
have a dick and literally everything feels good on a dick, as long it’s
consensual.”
“Okay, uh, it’s four AM, let’s not let this get too dark,” Josh said.
Ryan poked Josh’s rib. “Dark is my middle name. Ryan Dark Ross.”
“Sounds like you’re a tanning model,” he giggled.
Ryan meant to fuck with Josh, but something in his chest clenched horrifically
at the sound of a giggle and it was suddenly his turn to start crying. His body
trembled with the force of his sobs, and he bent down to hide his face in
Josh’s chest, shaking.
“Baby,” Josh murmured, wrapping him up in his arms. He ran his fingers through
Ryan’s hair. “Baby, it’s okay.”
“N-no, it’s not!” Ryan sobbed, clutching to Josh tightly. “I-I can’t f-f-
fucking get it up for him!”
Josh paused. “Wait, for real?”
“Gerard warned me of this,” he cried. “He told me this would happen. I’d deny,
and deny, and deny, and I would break myself, I would break my dick, and I
wouldn’t be able to have sex with Brendon. I told you about this, and you said
it wouldn’t happen, but it did!”
Josh remained quiet momentarily. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”
Ryan cried himself to sleep again atop Josh’s chest.
. . .
Brendon pulled further and further away as the days went on. Ryan loved him, he
did. He told Brendon, repeatedly, that he loved him. It didn’t take less than
one day for Brendon to stop saying it back.
“I want that surgery,” Brendon said like it was a normal conversation. “Sarah
and I have been texting and she told me about it. She said it could be good for
us.”
Ryan wanted to slit his own wrists.
“I’ll get it,” he choked out. He’d been scrambling to accommodate anything
Brendon wanted or needed for weeks, going into months. He only wanted to make
Brendon comfortable. He couldn't love him like Brendon wanted, so he was going
to make him comfortable if it killed him.
“I’ll get the surgery,” Ryan said, voice trembling. “The, the side effects can
be too much. They include nightmares and insomnia, and, and…”
Seizures.
Temporary comas.
Permanent comas.
Heart attacks, aneurisms, blindness, schizophrenia on exponential levels.
There was a lot that could go wrong.
Ryan wasn’t going to make Brendon take those risks. He would take them on for
himself.
“I’ll, I’ll get the surgery,” Ryan said
Brendon nodded. “Okay, yeah. You should do that. Because I think I’m gonna go
to New York with Sarah and Jeremy. She wants to be an actress and she thinks I
could make it big there with my singing.” Brendon kicked at the ground. “By the
way— I don’t want to sing for the band anymore.”
Ryan nodded shakily. “I, I thought so.”
“I’m gonna leave in a month,” he said.
Ryan was wondering when Brendon had had the time to plan on the best way to
tear Ryan’s life apart.
“I’ll miss you, Ryan,” Brendon sighed. “I wish we had worked out. Can't say I
didn't try.”
Ryan nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.
Brendon sighed. “I’ll see you later today. I’m going shopping for some new
clothes.” He waved as he was already walking away. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Ryan whispered.
. . .
“Travis?” Ryan asked into the receiver. “This, this is Travis, right? It’s
Ryan.”
“I’ve still got your number in my phone, dickface,” Travis snorted. Ryan
couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. He knew he had ignored Travis, fuck, he
was so good at ignoring people in the face of his problems. He fucking sucked
at this shit, he fucking sucked at being a good person, he just fucking sucked.
Ryan dug his nail into his arm and drew blood so he wouldn’t start crying. “I-
I’m sorry.”
“Ryan,” Travis sighed. “You know, phone’s go both ways. I could’ve called you
just like you could have called me. I’m just as much to blame as you, okay? It
doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, and it doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. You and
I had fucking awesome conversations, but we didn’t really hang out outside of
my lab, outside of Brendon.” Ryan flinched at the name. “Ry, you and I would be
great business partners. And that’s really it. Not everyone you meet is gonna
be your friend, and that’s okay. That’s all there is to it..”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan repeated.
“… Okay, Ryan. I’m sorry too.” Travis paused and Ryan was too messed up to
speak. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to get the dream-ending surgery,” he mumbled.
“Wait, what? Why? What happened? Jesus, Ray told me you guys found Brendon, so
the dream surgery shouldn’t even be on your mind. If anything, it’s redundant!
And totally not worth the risk if you’re experiencing an anomaly with
continuing dreams, regardless of separation. I mean, there are, like, pills for
that. They’re in trials or not FDA approved, but you have other options if the
dreams are bothering you.”
“Brendon’s leaving for New York and he doesn’t want me to come,” Ryan said.
“I’m getting the surgery. I, I don’t want to him risk the side effects, and I’d
rather it be me. So, I-I’m getting the surgery, Travis. For him, really. He, he
needs to be able to go somewhere without me in his head.”
“This is all sorts of fucked up, Ry,” Travis told him.
Ryan laughed brokenly and nodded to the phone. “It’s so fucking fucked, Travis.
And I don’t know what else to do but this. I’ve got to give him this. I can’t
get it up for him, so I owe him this much. I owe him the chance to make things
right for himself.”
Travis sighed again.“Dude, what happened? Why didn’t it work? You can’t get it
up? What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m broken,” Ryan whimpered. “It means that, I-I’m having trouble
actually getting it up, literally. I’m not sexually attracted to him, and it’s
getting worse. I can’t even bring myself to kiss him because my body becomes
disgusted with itself. It’s all so fucked.”
“You know what this surgery could do to you,” Travis reminded him softly. “You
know how dangerous it is.”
“I need it,” Ryan insisted.
“… Okay,”Travis relented. “Uh, I’ll send you all the information. Email and
shit. There, there’s a good doctor up in San Fransisco, so that would be your
best bet. She’s got the best track record for the least complications. And, I
mean, this is brain surgery. So you’ve got the regular issues there as well,
along with how dangerous it is to fuck with your brain. I, I’m going to insist
you don’t do the severing. There, there’s another method that’s less reliable
and final. I mean, with this method, you run the risk of the dreams returning,
but it’s safer. It causes less irreversible damage.”
“I don’t want the dreams to come back, Travis.”
“Yeah, watch me try to give a shit,” the other man shot back. “This way isn’t
going to fuck you up forever, so I’m making you do it. There’s a psych eval, as
always, you know it, but you’d never pass it cause of the fucked up system we
have, so I’m going to be your winning recommendation, which means you’re
getting the god damn needle surgery, and not the severing. We’re not losing
your over something like this.”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose in a last ditch effort to not cry over the
phone.
“Ryan?” Travis spoke gently. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“I have no other choice,” he replied.
Travis sighed for a third time. “… Okay. I’ll get all the info out to you.
Gimme an hour or so and it’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Good luck, Ryan,” he said softly. “I hope this doesn’t happen.”
Ryan hung up abruptly so he wouldn’t give away how messed up he was.
. . .
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Gerard said. “But I’m going to have to say that I do not
support this decision.”
Gerard was helping Ryan hand wash the dishes because Brendon had been learning
how to use the dishwasher and had broken it. Drowned the fucking thing with
suds. Ryan had thought it was adorable until Brendon had cursed Mikey under his
breath for “giving him the wrong directions, the fucker.” Ryan wasn’t sure
where Brendon had learned to be mean towards people like that (especially
Mikey), but he wasn’t surprised. Brendon had a streak of cruelty in him that
made Ryan nauseous. He hated the things he knew Brendon was capable of.
“Brendon has been all you’ve worked for since you were eighteen,” Gerard
continued. “I can’t accept the fact that you’re letting that go over something
that can be fought.”
“How can I fight this, Gee?” Ryan asked, wanting to hear yet another person’s
stellar idea of how Ryan wasn’t doing well enough for fuck all.
“You just gotta make yourself do it,” Gerard said with a shrug. “You gotta sit
down and kiss him and make yourself like it, and then you will! It’s mind over
matter, yeah? You can make yourself get it up. Take some drugs. Some pills.
Just give Brendon what he wants and everything will be okay.”
Ryan stared at Gerard. “Please tell me you see that moral line you’re tight
roping.”
Gerard was quiet, eyes darting around as he thought. Then he grimaced. “O-oh.
You’re right. I’m really sorry.” He ducked his head. “I just, I-I wanted this
to work for you. For Brendon. You guys should be happy and not having to deal
with this.”
Ryan looked away.
“I don’t think you should get the surgery, Ryan,” he said softly.
“I don’t think I should either,” Ryan admitted. “But I’m going to because
Brendon needs me to. And, I-I need to give him what he needs.” He paused. “…
Especially since I don’t think I can survive seeing him every night after he
leaves. We both need to start over.”
Gerard nodded. He reached over with sudsy hands and gave Ryan a hug with his
elbows, hands raised in the air so he wouldn’t get the soapy water anywhere on
either or them, nor on the counters.
“I thought everything was supposed to be okay now,” Gerard murmured sadly in
Ryan’s ear. “I… I guess not.”
Ryan nodded, and repeated, “guess not.”
. . .
“Now, I know that you and I have had quite a few discussions about this
surgery,” Dr. Mortimer said softly as she situation her tools. Ryan sat up in
the chair, trying to make himself comfortable with the brace around his skull.
“But I wanted to ask you, one more time, before I put you under— are you sure
this is what you want?”
Ryan looked to the door of the operating theatre and wished he could see the
others behind it.
He nodded. “I need this.”
The mask was put over his mouth and Ryan told Brendon goodbye while his heart
shattered.
. . .
When he woke up, he felt empty.
“It’s gonna hurt for a long time,” Josh told him from beside the bed. Gerard,
Frank, Ray, Mikey— they all sat across the room, in four uncomfortable looking
chairs, leaning against one another for support as they slept fitfully.
“You’ll feel like someone carved out part of your organs,” Josh continued.
“Every single one of them. A chunk from your lungs, a chunk form your stomach,
a chunk from your heart. You’re not gonna feel whole, and you won’t until you
find someone to fill it. A thing or an object won’t work. Alcohol and drugs
won’t work because they can’t tell you everything’s okay. But a person can.”
“Who did that for you?” Ryan asked in a raspy voice.
Josh shrugged. “You did.”
Ryan stared up at the stucco ceiling, feeling like he was back in the hospital
for having his wings burned away. He was sure that this was what a bird felt
like after having their wings severed form their body.
“Where’s Brendon?”
“He left during the surgery,” Josh replied. “He’s heading to New York.”
Ryan let out a dry sob, then fell completely silent for three days.
. . .
Half of Ryan’s head had been shaved and he only wore a beanie anymore. He was
bitterly grateful for that, because it made getting out of bed easier since he
wouldn’t have to get ready for the day.
At day three, when Ryan got out of the hospital, he told Ray he wanted to see
Brendon.
“He’s in New York, Ryan,” Ray told him sadly.
“I need to see him,” he whispered, voice catching. It was scratchy from neglect
and breaking at the edges, though Ryan wasn’t sure if it was because he was
breaking his three-day silence, or because he was so fucking wrecked.
“Ryan, he’s across the country,” Ray said. “Even more so than last time. You
can’t get to him. You, you shouldn’t get to him. He wants to move on with his
life. I’m sorry, Ryan, but…”
“This isn’t f-fair,” Ryan choked out. “Where is he?”
“New York,” Ray repeated patiently.
“I need to go to him,” Ryan insisted. “I need to see him.”
“Ryan, you can’t.”
Ryan sobbed and locked himself in his room for another day.
. . .
It was hard to look at himself.
Ryan hadn’t felt this low since his mother had left him, because, again, he
knew it was his own fault.
Ryan stared at his hands in the mirror, unable to look at his face. He looked
at how pale his skin was, how pallor and sickly it appeared. He then looked
down his body and hated what he saw, hated the bones and the lines and the DNA
he knew was there. He saw a disgusting piece of fucking shit who couldn’t love
his own soulmate.
How messed up was that?
He could think of hundreds of people who would give anything to have their
soulmate to love, Josh being the fucking first. What Ryan knew Josh would give
to have Debby back just so he could love her. Josh would die just to have one
more day with Debby. He would kill. Ryan had Brendon and couldn’t fucking get
it up and he’d lost Brendon over it.
Ryan stared down at his body and hated it.
He fucking hated it.
He couldn’t be with Brendon because of his body, and that was fucking it. It
was always his fucking body.
His body was a fucking cage and it made him sick.
“Gee?” Ryan called out. He only called out for Gerard because he knew Gerard
was closest to him, in the next room, the living room. No one had left Ryan
alone much since the surgery. “I’m going on a walk.”
“Okay,” Gerard replied. “Let me get my shoes on.”
“I’d like to be alone,” Ryan said.
There was a pause before Gerard knocked on the bathroom door. Ryan opened
obediently and plastered on a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but his
smile really didn’t do that anymore anyways, so it wasn't abnormal.
“Are you sure?” Gerard asked cautiously.
“Won’t even go more than a mile away,” Ryan lied sincerely. “You guys can text
me to check up and I’ll reply every time, I promise.”
Gerard bit his lip, hesitant, but nodded. “No more than thirty minutes.”
Ryan nodded. He went to his shoes in the kitchen and toed them on before
leaving in the rush.
He just so happened to forget his phone on the kitchen table with the notes app
open, a single message written, saying “sorry. I tried, but I couldn’t do it.
Love you all.”
His last message had been to Brendon, reading, “you wrecked me.”
Ryan didn’t mean to be a diva, he just didn’t have any other words for it. He
knew Brendon would get upset if Ryan said he loved him. He knew Brendon
wouldn’t reply to anything, probably not even read it. Brendon was leaving him
behind and Ryan would never catch up.
He was getting tired of running anyways.
. . .
Ryan wished he’d gotten his first suicide attempt right. His reason wasn’t that
complex this time. He just hated himself. He couldn’t see a future without
Brendon. It was different than if Brendon had died, though. This wasn’t the
world taking Brendon from Ryan, this was Ryan just not being good enough.
He stood on the ledge of one of the hundreds of bridges that crossed over the
LA river and felt like a fucking idiot. After everyone had convinced and fought
for Ryan to stay last time, Ryan was turning around and fucking it all up
again. He was a fucking dick.
“Such a fucking disappointment,” Ryan told himself from atop the bridge. He was
having trouble keeping himself from shaking as he stepped up on the stone
handrail/guardrail. “Can't even fucking kill myself right.”
“What are you doing?”
Ryan paused, then turned around to see Josh standing there on the sidewalk,
looking just as tired as Ryan felt.
“Uh,” was all Ryan replied, feeling stupid.
Josh stepped forward and pulled himself up to stand on the guardrail beside
Ryan. “If you go, I go,” he said, taking Ryan’s hand. “Seriously, man. Thick
and thin. You saved me when I lost Debby, so let me save you this time.” He
squeezed Ryan’s hand. “It’s stupid to give up over something like this. This is
not the end, Ry. You’ve got to stay with me and let me fix you.”
Ryan shuddered as he stared down at the concrete. “It wouldn’t hurt to drop,”
he almost whispered.
“But it would hurt to live without you,” Josh replied.
Ryan bit his lip.
Josh sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket and called someone, though
Ryan didn’t know who it was. Josh was quiet for a moment as he waited for
whoever it was to answer the phone. “Hey,” Josh said into the receiver. “I
found Ryan at a bridge. Uh, on a bridge. I need you to help me tell him we love
him. Also, I’m getting plane tickets for New York. Tomorrow.”
Ryan was too sad to be very shocked right then.
“It’s Mikey,” Josh said, putting the phone to Ryan’s ear.
“Remember when I relapsed?” Mikey asked.
Ryan waited, expecting Mikey to continue, but then remembered he was on the
phone. “Yeah,” he murmured.
“Remember how pissed you were?”Mikey continued.“You were fucking mad at me
because I had all these people who could support me, but I just didn’t go to
them for literally no reason at all. You were made at me for giving up and not
even asking for help. That is what you’re doing. And it’s pissing me off, like
I had pissed you off. Ryan, you fucking lied to my brother. He doesn’t know
where you are right now because he wasn’t the one in charge of following you
today, and we’re not going to tell him. You’re just gonna come home and
apologize and then we’re gonna go to New York and you are never going to pull
this shit again.”
Ryan whimpered.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Mikey said. “I’m really not. I’m telling you how
you’re acting and why it’s wrong. It’s unfair to make us need you in our lives
like we do, only for you to tear yourself away so selfishly. Your life isn’t
your own because I need you to be part of my life. So does Gee, so does Ray,
Frank, Pete, Josh. Especially Josh.”
Ryan heard something in Mikey’d tone when he saw Josh’s name that he didn’t
understand.
“I’m not going to be sweet to you because I know you need to be slapped, not
hugged. So I’m not going to hug you.” Mikey paused.“Until you come home, that
is.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan mumbled.
“It’s fine,” Mikey replied. “Are you on the ground yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Hang up and get the fuck off the ledge,”Mikey ordered.
“I love you, Mikey,” he mumbled.
“I love you too,” Mikey said. “I’ll see you when you come home.”
Ryan hung up and handed Josh back the phone. Josh put it in his back pocket.
“We stepping down?” Josh asked.
Ryan nodded.
“Good,” Josh hummed. He jumped down from the ledge and pulled Ryan down with a
gentle hand around his waist. Ryan instantly sunk into the warmth against
Josh’s side, comforted immensely by the touch.
“Should have just stayed with you,” Ryan said bitterly, not thinking about the
words he was saying.
Josh became very quiet.
. . .
Ryan ended up shuffling to Mikey once they got home and hugged him for as long
as Mikey would allow, which turned out to be for a very long time. Ryan
appreciated it. He needed the contact and Mikey gave some really good hugs,
good enough to rival Ray’s or Pete’s.
“I’m gonna tear your dick off if you try this again,” Mikey said. “Because I
love you.”
“Because you love me,” Ryan repeated softly.
Mike kissed his cheek. “We’re flying to New York tomorrow.”
“We?” Josh asked.
Mikey nodded. “Me and Ryan and you. Now that B’s out of the picture, I have to
keep an eye on you.”
Josh snorted and wore an odd expression.
“We’re gonna track down B and let you get whatever closure you need, because
it’s what you deserve,” Mikey said. “Ditching you during the surgery was fucked
up. We need to fix it, and I’m sorry we even let it happen.”
Ryan shook his head. “Not your fault.”
Mikey sighed. “You’re too good to us, Ry. But even then, we don’t deserve to be
left in the dust like this. Like we don’t mean a thing next to Brendon.”
Ryan nodded, feeling even more stupid. “Sorry.”
“Don’t do it again, and all will be forgiven.”
Ryan nodded. “We, we don’t have to go to New York.”
“Yeah, we do,” Frank cut in, walking into the living room. When everyone stared
at him, he shrugged. “I mean, come on. Brendon left during the surgery. Ryan
went in there with Brendon, and came out completely without him. Like, that
shit is fucked up, and I was kinda kinda punch Brendon in the jaw when he
suddenly just left. You don’t leave your soulmate during dream ending surgery.
That’s too messed up.”
Mikey nodded is agreement. “Josh and I are gonna take him to New York,” he told
Frank. “We’re gonna buy some shitty flight for tomorrow. We’re gonna hunt
Brendon down, let Ryan talk to him, and then we’re gonna do fuck all.”
Frank narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “You okay?”
Ryan shrugged. “No seizures yet.”
“Not what I meant.”
Ryan ducked his head. “… I’m fine.”
“Fucking liar,” Frank snorted. “Whatever. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or
I’ll make you tell me. Later.” Frank nudged Ryan’s side. “You’re gonna fucking
tell me one day, asshole.”
Ryan nodded.
Frank grinned and nudged Ryan. “Go pack your bags. We’ll get you those tickets.
Call it an early birthday present or whatever you’d like. It won’t actually be
your present. We’re just here for ya. We wanna help.”
Ryan nodded again.
“Sweet,” Frank said. “I’m gonna try and make something edible for dinner. Wish
me luck?”
“I really don’t wanna die,” Mikey sighed.
“Don’t be a dick,” Frank giggled. “I’m gonna make pasta salad and shit! And
Ray’s gonna help me grill and we’re gonna be such fucking dads. It’s gonna be
fucking sexy and shit and Gerard’s gonna try and bone me on the grill and I’m
gonna get burn marks on my ass. Do you know how great of a scar that would be?
Better than all my tattoos. And I already have Gee’s name on my right ass
cheek.”
Mikey plugged his ears and let out this wail to drown out whatever else Frank
could say.
Frank giggled and scampered off to the kitchen. “Hardcore gay sex!” he shouted
as he left.
“Fuck everyone in this house!” Mikey yelled back.
. . .
“I’ve never been to New York,” Mikey said as he watched Josh desperately
attempted to flag down a cab. Ryan had noticed that it was so much easier to
get a cabbie if you had tits and legs for miles. While all Mikey and Ryan were
tall and they were all skinny, they definitely weren’t voluptuous. Ryan was
suspecting that they’d have to walk to wherever Brendon was.
“Where is Brendon?”
“Ray’s dad sent me the address,” Mikey replied. “Sarah checks back in with him
because she’s legally required to do so for the agency until she’s eighteen.
She’s lucky her foster parents are so fucking kind to her. My parents wouldn’t
have ever let me leave for New York.”
“Your parents weren’t very nice,” Ryan reminded him. He was about to have a
fucking heart attack or something. He was clutching at his backpack strap,
shaking, trying to soak in all the noises and the distractions and chaos to
distract himself.
But it wasn’t fucking working and Ryan was seeing spots.
“I got one!” Josh suddenly shouted. He tugged Ryan over with Josh and tugged
them into the taxi cab. Ryan dropped into the seat and stared at the name card.
The man’s name was Gabriel.
“I’m gonna throw up,” he whispered to Mikey. Mikey had also noticed the name
and reached over to hold Ryan’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Mikey murmured. His hands were shaking like Ryan’s and they were
clammy.
Jesus, they were never going to get over that. William and Gabe would always be
ghosts over their shoulders. They’d never be able to go out and actually exist
without remembering who they’d lost.
Ryan started to breathe shallowly, unable to calm himself down.
“Ryan, baby,” Josh said from the front seat. “Keep calm, okay? You gotta calm
down for me. And Mikey. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
Ryan trembled and struggled to keep breathing, keep his head above the
metaphorical water. He squeezed Mikey’s hand so tightly that he felt something
pop. Ryan was going to beg for some sort of forgiveness once he could actually
exist and feel like a human being again.Ryan felt like crying and screaming and
then something in his spine snapped in a weird way and he let out a full body
shudder, almost convulsing.
“Shit,” he heard Mikey mumble as Josh reached back to put a hand on his knee.
“How far to the address?” Josh asked the cabbie.
“Ten minutes,” the man replied. “Short distance.”
“Thank you,” Josh replied. “I’ll give you a fifty dollar tip if you make it in
five.”
. . .
Ryan sat on the concrete and watched the cars go by. He was breathing
cautiously. The worst had passed at the end of the cab ride. Ryan had
apologized profusely over Mikey’s hand, but Mikey hadn’t cared all that much.
He’d been really accepting and considerate, and, jesus, Ryan was so fucking
lucky to have him.
“Brendon’s just upstairs,” Josh told him patiently. “Don’t you want to see
him?”
Ryan shook his head.
“But you do,” Mikey said. “You did. Not even a day ago, you were so desperate
to see him.” Mikey looked to Josh and they said something to each other with
their eyes. “We’re not going to let you leave here without talking to him,”
Mikey said firmly. “We love you too much to let this go. This is something you
need, so we’re going to insist you take it, no matter how much it hurts.”
Ryan whimpered. “I-I wanna go home.”
“We’re not going home until you do this,” Mikey insisted.
Ryan started to tear up. “I wanna go h-h-home. Let me g-go home.”
“We can’t, baby,” Josh said sadly. “We gotta get this done.”
“He doesn’t w-want to see me.” Ryan began to cry. “I-I never meant anything to
him.”
“That’s not true,” Mikey murmured. “You meant everything to him and you know
it. You both went through a lot together, but sometimes people just don’t work
out, and it’s horrible when two people fall away, almost surgical, but it
happens.”
“Just as how Tyler’s brother couldn’t love his soulmate for who he was, you
weren’t meant to be with Brendon because of who you are,” Josh sighed. “And
that’s not your fault. That’s not Brendon’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. It’s
just how things are.”
“I-I’m a f-fucking failure,” Ryan sobbed.
“Name one person who isn’t,” Mikey chortled.
“I’m so m-messed up and broken and f-f-fucking stupid,” Ryan barreled on. “I c-
can have sex with f-fucking anyone but him! What the f-fuck is wrong with me?
He’s supposed to be my one an only and I c-c-can’t even do the m-most basic
action of i-intimacy with him.”
Josh sat down beside Ryan and put an arm around his shoulder. “You’re not
messed up,” he promised. “You can’t help what your body wants. This isn’t your
fault, okay? We all know you would be with him in every way he needs if you
could.”
Ryan whimpered and slumped against Josh.
“Let’s get upstairs, Mikey prodded gently.
Ryan nodded and stood on shaky legs. Mikey and Josh helped him stand and pulled
him to the front of the apartment complex. Ryan climbed the stairs cautiously,
not all that confident in what was about to happen. He wasn’t even sure if they
were legally allowed to have this address. With each step, he felt worse and
worse. The anxiety coiling in his stomach was telling him that he would only be
hurt more by whatever Brendon had to say to him.
“Let’s step right into a zombie apocalypse,” Mikey mumbled as they reached the
designated floor. Mikey looked like he knew what he was doing, and Ryan totally
trusted Mikey to know what he was doing. He kinda just wanted to let someone
else do whatever they needed. He didn’t want any part in this.
He couldn’t stand this. He wanted to die.
Ryan looked out the window and saw they were a good ten stories up. “What if I
jumped?” he asked.
“I’d jumped after you,” Josh said.
“So would I,” Mikey replied. “Stop saying that stuff, Ry. We love you and we
don’t want you hitting the ground. We’re gonna hit it with you, alright? I
mean, fuck, I have Ray. I can’t leave him. I don’t want to leave him. But you
have to understand that taking your life would be doing more pain to us than
you seem to get.”
Ryan looked away and nodded. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Mikey responded automatically. “Just stop with this suicide shit.
We’re here and we’re fixing this, and then we’re going home. This is your
moment, Ry. You and Brendon are going to work this out, and then you’ll finally
have some semblance of peace, or at least a start down the right track. Who
knows?” Mikey smiled a bit. “Maybe you can find another person who you can love
like Brendon and still have sex with.”
Ryan grimaced.
“Dude,” Josh snorted. “Too soon.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Mikey winced. He knocked on the door he stopped in front of and
waited. When about twenty seconds went by, Mikey knocked again. There was still
nothing. Ryan could hear the thumping of electronic bass when he trained his
focus. He kinda hated to think about what happened with everything that could
involve loud bass.
The door swung open to reveal a scene kid brunet with eyeliner and thin lips.
He was shirtless and there were bruises and bite marks across his chest. “Can I
help you guys?”
“Is Brendon here?” Josh asked, obviously taking the initiative. Mikey actually
became rather awkward when he was faced with shirtless, semi-attractive male
that Mikey would usually picture watching him and Ray fuck. Mikey was a sick
exhibitionist and Ryan loved that sort of quirkiness, but jesus, this was the
most inappropriate time.
“Brendon?” the kid repeated. He snorted and cut his eyes between Mikey and Josh
and Ryan, and Ryan decided this guy was a fucking punk. “Why do you want him?
He’s kinda busy, man, and he totally wouldn’t want to be interrupted right now.
Hell, I don’t want to be interrupted right now.”
“Fucking Jeremy, fuck!”
Ryan flinched when he heard the sound of Brendon shouting, and his voice was
strained with something fucking familiar and almost sickening.
“Who is it?” a girl’s voice called out. “Tell them we’re busy!”
“Some dudes looking for you, B!” Jeremy, called back.
Ryan actually did feel sick.
“B,” he repeated in a broken whisper. He tugged at the beanie, hands shaking
again. “What, what are you doing with Brendon?” he asked Jeremy.
Jeremy snorted. “Who’s asking?”
“Ryan Ross.”
Ryan looked past Jeremy, into the apartment, and saw Brendon, standing in a
small kitchen, staring at him. His heart skipped a beat and then dropped past
his stomach. He felt dizzy. Ryan swayed on his feet and just barely caught the
sleeve of Josh’s shirt in time.
Brendon was only in boxers with the same bruises. For a moment, Ryan thought
that Brendon and Jeremy had been having sex. But then he remembered he’d heard
a girl’s voice and he knew it had to be Sarah because it couldn’t be anyone
else.
“Are you guys having sex?” Ryan asked. He had to ask, he couldn’t really ask
anything else because he couldn’t think about anything else. He saw lipstick
staining Brendon’s jaw and thought, for a single moment, ‘I’ll bet she knows
how to make him scream like I never could.’
“Maybe,” Brendon replied. He sighed, looked around, then went out of sight.
Brendon came back with a sweater that Ryan knew was missing from his own closet
and pulled it on over his shoulders. “How was the surgery?”
Ryan slowly pulled the beanie off to show the short hair on half of his hair.
Brendon frowned. “Are you okay?”
Ryan nodded.
“That’s a lie,” Mikey interrupted. Ryan looked to him and saw he was scowling.
“Ryan’s not okay because of that fucking stunt you pulled. You ditched him in
the middle of the fucking surgery and left him to fucking die. You do realize
that Ryan tried to kill himself again, right?”
Brendon hesitated. “W-why would he do that?”
“Because you ditched him?” Josh snorted. “And stole his sweater, apparently.”
Brendon bit his lip. “… We should go somewhere else for this.”
“For what?” Ryan asked dumbly.
“For this conversation,” Brendon clarified with a soft, sad gaze in Ryan’s
direction.
Ryan ducked his head so he couldn’t feel the touch of Brendon’s eyes to his
psyche and nodded.
“I’m gonna get dressed,” Brendon told them. “Jeremy, let them inside. I’ll tell
Sarah they’re here. She’s always wanted to meet Ryan, anyways.” Ryan found that
bittersweet in a fucked up way. After everything it had all come back to Sarah,
and she still wanted to meet Ryan. Ryan couldn’t hold anything against her
because she was just a good fucking girl, and that was it. She didn’t have
anything to do with Brendon’s decisions.
Jeremy swung the door open, looking Mikey and Josh up and down, then just
outright staring at Ryan. “You’re the guy whose dick doesn’t work, right?”
Ryan flinched.
“Dude, back off,” Brendon sighed, before turning around to head back into the
bedroom. The apartment was pretty small and had brick walls. There was a living
room that was barely a room at all with a kitchen right next to it, and then a
single door that led into the back, into what Ryan knew had to be the bedroom.
As Brendon reopened, then closed the door behind himself, he caught a glimpse
of a curvy, young girl slipping on her bra from behind.
“Please don’t tell me you guys came to New York to find yourselves and have
orgies,” Mikey sighed. “Dude, that is so cliché. Fucking everyone does that.
Polygamy isn’t, like, bad or anything, but really? We knocked on the door to
interrupt your three way? Thought that shit only happened in books or TV shows
or movies.”
“Hella awkward,” Jeremy agreed, still staring at Ryan. “You’re skinnier than
I’d thought you’d be. Like, anorexic. You tried to kill yourself? Over
Brendon?” He snorted. “Why the hell did Brendon leave someone that fucking in
love with him?”
“That’s what we’re here to ask,” Josh said.
Jeremy nodded. “I heard about how he left. And how he got the surgery.” Jeremy
gestured to Ryan to show that he actually knew a little of what he was talking
about. “Crazy to think people are actually doing that shit. Makes me wonder how
fucked up things have to be for that to happen.”
“Pretty fucked up,” Mikey sighed.
Brendon came back out in the skinny jeans Mikey had chosen for him. They were
mauve and worked well with the black tribal print sweater that Brendon had
stolen from Ryan and was now hanging off of his thin shoulders. At least
Brendon had put on a lot of weight before he’d left.
“There’s a coffee place,” Brendon told them. “Abraço. It’s really good and
hipster and shit. We can take cab there. It’ll be nice and it’s pretty quiet
this time of day, so we’ll be able to talk.” He was looking at Ryan as he said
all of this and Ryan couldn’t meet his eyes for too long without shuddering.
“Sounds good,” Josh said for Ryan.
Brendon ducked out of the apartment and they all followed.
“Wait, hey!”
Ryan turned around at the sound of the feminine voice and took in Sarah. She
was petit and skinny and curvy with dark brown hair and gorgeous, clear eyes.
She really was fucking pretty in a way Ryan could never be, and he, again, knew
that he just wasn’t what Brendon really wanted. He wondered if Brendon liked
kissing her more than he had before.
“Hi,” she greeted, smiling shyly. “I, I’m sorry that you had to come at a time
like this. It’s not very polite of us.” She hesitated before moving forward to
hug Ryan like she was scared to either break him or herself. Ryan wouldn’t
doubt either of those. “It’s really nice to finally meet you,” she said softly.
“I mean, without you, Brendon would still be stuck with those awful people. He
could even be dead. And, I-I know you’ve been hurt and I know a lot of it is my
fault, but I just want to thank you.” She hugged him a bit tighter. “So, thank
you.”
Ryan nodded and hesitantly hugged her back.
“I’m sorry you’re sick,” she whispered.
Ryan nodded. “Me too.”
. . .
Brendon directed the taxi to the coffee place from the front seat while the
rest of them piled in the back. Ryan's happily squished between Mikey and Josh
and both of them were holding on of Ryan’s hands. He squeezed their hands so
tightly that it hurt himself. He was going to get them icepacks when this was
finally over. He felt so bad for what he was doing tho their hands.
When the cab pulled up, Josh got out slowly so Ryan would be forced to take it
slowly as well. Ryan was grateful because he was so anxious that he was almost
twitchy, like a fucking meth addict.
Mikey followed right behind Ryan, a hand placed against the small of Ryan’s
back. Ryan saw Brendon watched them and wondered if Brendon was just now
realizing what he had done to Ryan. Ryan almost wished Brendon felt bad for
what he’d done. Ryan wasn’t a spiteful or vengeful person, but he couldn’t
stand the idea of people mowing others down in their lives without even pausing
to look back at the bodies they’d piled high.
Then Ryan hated himself a little for wishing any sort of pain on Brendon, even
if it was just emotional.
Just emotional.
Ryan found himself leaning into Josh for more comfort. Josh was really fucking
good at making him not feel like he was not going to fucking fall apart. Josh
put an arm around Ryan and Ryan looked to Brendon again to see he was… he was
glaring at Josh? What?
Brendon sat down at a table after pulling up an extra chair. Ryan dropped into
the seat closest to Brendon, needing to be close to him somehow. He knew Josh
would understand. This was the last of what he could have with Brendon. This
was the fucking end of it all, and Ryan still kinda felt like jumping off a
bridge.
“You guys want coffee?” Mikey asked. He took the tentative orders and went to
the register.
“I don’t think we need to tell you how messed up what you did was,” Josh began,
looking to Brendon with narrowed eyes. “And I know you know that this shit is
just straight fucked. You left during his surgery. The surgery that he was
getting for you so you wouldn’t have to risk any side effects. And you left in
the middle of it.”
Brendon looked out the window and shrugged. “I’d thought it would’ve been
easier if I hadn’t said goodbye.”
“Are you stupid?” Josh asked incredulously.
“Josh,” Ryan cut in, not at all wanting this to hurt Brendon. “You, you don’t
need to say that. He isn’t stupid and you know that.”
“Do I?” Josh shot back. “He thought it would be easier if he fucking ditched
you while you were under. That isn’t making it easier, that’s leaving you
feeling flayed open. He’s gotta be fucking stupid if he thought that was
actually the best thing to do to you.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Brendon murmured.
Ryan looked to Brendon and smiled brokenly. “I’m not upset. It’s okay. There,
there’s nothing to forgive.”
Brendon looked a little upset. “You’ve always said that, you know. I-I’m
starting to think that you’ve always let me off the hook way too easily. Like,
you should actually get mad at me so I learn something.”
“Dude!” Mikey blanched as he approached with a drink carrier full of their
order. “You can’t seriously blame all your fuck-ups on Ryan fucking loving you.
That’s—”
“Messed up, I know,” Brendon interrupted with a huff. “So you think it’s my
fault?”

“No, no!” Ryan rushed to say, shaking his head and his hands. “No, B,
baby, you, you’re doing perfectly. You’re actually out in the world making a
name for yourself. You’ve got a home and friends a-and a girlfriend? And
boyfriend. Both?”
“We don’t like labels,” Brendon said tersely.
Ryan hesitated. “… I-I’m happy for you, baby.”
Brendon grimaced. “Please don’t call me baby. That’s not who I am to you.”
Ryan really wanted to get back to the LA bridge to just fucking jump.
“If I weren’t a better person, I would reach across this table and slap you,”
Josh said in a dangerous, low voice. “I haven’t known Ryan as long as you have,
but I’ve been here to fucking listen to everything you’ve done to him. Do you
know how I met Ryan? I met him in the fucking hospital after you tore his
fucking wings off. The first Ryan I ever knew was a shell of a person. And for
the whole time I’ve known him since, every fucking breath out of his body has
been spent for you. He’s done everything for you. He’s done fucking everything
to keep you happy and content and alive and you’ve just thrown all of that
aside.
Josh pointed at Ryan. “Do you see this look on his face? This is the same face
he wore when he fucking swallowed all of Gerard’s pills and we nearly lost him
on the bathroom floor. That’s the same fucking face he wore when he told us he
wanted to die to see if you’d fall asleep as he died. That’s the fucking worst
face he could ever wear because it’s the face he wears when he tries to fucking
die, and that’s it. You put that on his face. You fucking did this. You hear
me? You made Ryan want to kill himself. And that’s just fucking wrong.
“And I want you to fucking realize that even if this was someone else, you
can’t fucking do this to anyone. Life is so fucking hard already, it’s one of
the most difficult things we’ll ever be forced into, and the only reprieve if
each other. Surviving is the hardest part and it’s so fucking fucked up to make
it harder on someone else. You’re really going to make Ryan’s already grueling
life worse by doing these things to him? Leaving him on the operating table and
going to fuck around with some brunet and a fucking punk? Ryan fucking deserves
better that this. He deserves better than you, and I’ll be fucked damned if I
let Ryan live one more day with this expression, especially when it’s you who
put it there!”
There were quite a few people staring at Josh them and Ryan was one of them. He
couldn’t believe half of the stuff that came out of Josh’s mouth because it
sounded like Josh had been bottling up thoughts about Brendon for a very long
time. Ryan hated to think that Josh didn’t like Brendon. He couldn’t stand that
reality.
Brendon looked oddly mollified. Ryan didn’t understand why, considering Josh
had been saying all of those aggressive things to him.
“You and Ryan were fucking before I came to Chicago, weren’t you?” Brendon
asked.
Mikey choked on his drink and looked between Josh, Brendon, and Ryan like he
was in the middle of a shitty soap opera. Ryan totally understood the look he
was wearing, though, because he was kinda feeling the same way. Shocked and
anxious and just really, really hopeful that this wouldn’t be that big of a
deal.
“I can see right through you, Josh,” Brendon said sagely. “I’ve been in New
York for nearly two weeks. I know what’s happening. I know what you want from
him and it’s not something he’s gonna give you.”
Josh bristled. “What happened between me and Ryan is none of your business.
What is your business if saying what you need to say to get this fucking
suicidal look off of Ryan’s face.”
“What Josh is trying to say,” Mikey interrupted carefully. “Is that, if you
think you can go through life and do these sorts of things to people with no
consequences for yourself or others, you’re wrong. People don’t deserve to be
treated like you’ve treated Ryan. We can’t let you get away with that without
some sort of punishment.”
“So what’re you gonna do?” Brendon asked, eyes narrowing as he tensed, on the
defensive. “Hit me?”
Mikey’s eyes went wide. “Good god, no, jesus. Oh my god, we, I could never hit
anyone. No. No, no, no. We’re not like that, Brendon, we, we’d never do that to
you. We’d never hit anyone, really, and especially not you. We just…” He
faltered, looking to Josh for help.
“Walking all over the people you love isn’t inexcusable, and we’re just going
to keep talking until you understand that and regret it,” Josh said. He looked
really upset. Ryan honestly wished this was all just over with. “There’s not
actual punishment we can give you. There’s no consequence we can enforce, we
just really, really want you to feel like shit.”
“No, we don’t,” Ryan said weakly.
Brendon sighed. “No, Ry, they… They’re right. I mean, to themselves. And
morally.” Brendon swallowed some of his drink before explaining. “I still think
what I did was right, but I know that it was cruel to you. I should be sorry. I
am sorry. So, sorry.”
Ryan shrugged. “I-I don’t mind.”
“You should,” Brendon sighed. “I mean, you really ought to. You’ve gotta
actually stick up for yourself once in a while.”
Ryan shrugged again.
Brendon rested his head on his hand and watched Ryan for a moment. “Do you know
how to live without me?” he asked curiously. “Like, actually live. Without me.”
Ryan faltered, then shook his head. “I-I barely even know who I am outside of
you.”
“We should fix that,” Mikey said.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Brendon murmured. “I just… I needed to do what was right
for myself. I couldn’t stay in a relationship waiting to be loved like I feel
like I need to be. I-I get that it was hurtful and fucked up, but… I needed to
look out for myself.”
Ryan looked down at his untouched drink, revealing in the irony. For years he’d
been told to take care of himself and not Brendon. Now, Ryan was losing Brendon
to the very thing people insisted he should have paid more attention to.
“I just had to find what I need,” Brendon told Ryan sadly. “A-and I found it.
In Sarah and Jeremy.”
“Not to be a bigot, just that “and” in there weirds me out,” Mikey said. “I
mean, jesus, B. You were a fucking virgin who didn’t get a boner until you
were, what? Fifteen? Now you’re in a polygamous relationship. That’s a really
big step. Are you even sure you’re ready for that?”
“Does it matter either way?” Brendon parried. “I’m happy. That’s all that
counts to me.”
“Even if it means hurting someone else?” Josh asked. “Like, say, your
soulmate?”
Brendon grimaced. “Sometimes you have to do hard things to be happy.”
“And, and that’s okay,” Ryan said. He looked between Josh and Mikey and Brendon
and managed smile. “It’s okay that he’s happy, okay? I, I know you two wanted
to come here and just, lay into Brendon, and I know you think I wanted the
same, but that’s not the case. I just… I wanted to see Brendon. One last time.”
Josh sighed and looked exasperated, while Mikey just looked sad.
“Can… Can I, maybe, just talk with Ryan alone for a moment?” Brendon asked
cautiously.
“No,” Josh said with a scowl.
“I don’t know,” Mikey murmured.
“Yes,” Ryan said with an eager expression.
Brendon looked very confused.
“Yes,” Ryan repeated, standing from his chair. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.”
“I don’t like that,” Josh said.
“That, that’s great, Josh,” Ryan said dismissively. “But this is my decision
and his decision. I-I appreciate how supportive you are of me and how much you
want to keep me safe, but I need this. I really need this.”
Josh’s mouth was set in a thin line, but he eventually nodded. “Mikey and I are
gonna go look at stuff. Things. Whatever. And you’re gonna text us when it’s
over and we’ll figure out where to go from there, okay?”
Ryan nodded, understanding Josh’s anxiety to leave Ryan along with Brendon.
“I’ll also send you the S.O.S. if I think I need it.”
Josh huffed and stood. “Let’s go, Mikey.” Mikey followed him out of the shop
and Ryan was alone with Brendon. And Ryan wasn’t really sure what to do with
that, because he wasn't very fucking sure of anything. He watched Brendon
cautiously, waiting for the boy to speak up and explain what was so important
that it needed to be said privately.
Brendon was stirring his drink with a sort of laziness to his limbs, like he
was either disinterested or tired. Ryan hoped he wasn’t disinterested, because
that would definitely be salt in the fucking wound.
“You know Josh is in love with you, right?” Brendon suddenly asked.
Ryan’s brain slowed to a halt.
“He… he what?”
“He’s in love with you,” Brendon repeated. “And, you know, I totally get that
you and Josh were a thing before I came to Chicago, which I’ve already said.
And I just kinda realized that you don’t know he’s in love with you.”
Ryan faltered. “He, he isn’t. Josh isn’t.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “I’ve learned a lot since coming here, Ryan, and I
know what that looks means when I see it. He’s totally into you, and it’s kinda
sad, really. Especially since you’re parading around, only talking or thinking
about me. Kinda a dick move to him.”
Ryan whimpered. “I… I don’t mean to.”
Brendon sighed and nodded. “Dude, just… I love you. I really do. I’m just not
going to be a huge part of your life anymore. Maybe not even a part of it at
all, and I’m sorry. I just think that it’s best for us to part ways and leave
it at that.”
Ryan felt really sick. “… Okay.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Brendon said, and he sounded like he meant it. He reached
across the table to cover Ryan’s hand with his own. “You’ve done so much for
me, and I’ll always be in your debt.”
Ryan shook his head. “You don't owe me anything,” he mumbled.
“Except I kinda do?” Brendon rubbed the back of his head. “You just, you did so
many things for me. You agonized over getting me out of there, went to school
for me, gave up so many opportunities and people and emotional stability, just
for me. And Ryan, I-I know you don’t believe me, but Josh fell in love with you
somewhere along the way, and I know you care about him a lot too. You should
try, Ry. With him. He’ll definitely be better for you, just like Sarah is
better for me. I’m from the same background as her so we get each other without
even trying, and Jeremy’s just cool. You and Josh have a lot in common too.”
“Like what?” Ryan asked, almost skeptical. He knew, without a doubt, that he
and Josh were just fucking great together, but he was finding it hard to
believe that there could be something there.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Brendon faltered. Before Ryan could say something snarky,
Brendon suggested, “you’ve both lost your soulmates?”

Ryan’s expression wiped clean of emotion and he nodded slowly. “This is it,
then, isn’t it?”
Brendon nodded. “Maybe we’ll see each other again in the future, but we’re not
in love. I love you. But we’re not in love. Not anymore.”
Ryan nodded. “I love you,” he said. “Though, I know that’s useless to say.”
“Not useless,” Brendon sighed. “Ryan, you mean everything to me, okay? And the
fact that you love me means just as much. I will always love you, Ry. And you
will always be my angel.”
Ryan’s heart clenched painfully and he nodded. “I’ll always be here for you,
B,” he promised. “Just, just call me, okay? Get to me somehow. I don’t care
what it is that you need, I don’t care what you ask of me, I’ll be there. Come
hell or high water or the end of the world, I’m here for you. Always.”
Brendon smiled a bit. “I was so lucky you have you as my soulmate,” he told
Ryan.
. . .
Ryan left the cafe with tears streaming down his face. Brendon had leaned over
the table to kiss him one last time, before leaving the cafe without Ryan and
heading the opposite direction.
Mikey and Josh were just down the sidewalk and both rushed forward when Ryan
and finally emerged from the cafe.
“We talked about it,” Mikey said. “And we’re not driving home. We’re gonna buy
one shitty van and drive it. Gee’s already got a van in mind, we just gotta get
there and pick it up, and then we’re gone. We’re gonna get snacks and buy
shitty clothes and we’re gonna drive down the country and experience all this
new and cool shit, and it’s gonna be good for us.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay.”
. . .
“So, I bought one of those maps,” Josh said as he waited with Ryan for Mikey to
pick up the van from the used dealership Gerard had referred them to. “It’s one
of those huge Atlas maps, for all of America.” He was flipping through the
folds of said map, grinning. “We’re gonna do this, old school status, cool? And
we’re going through Chicago for one day, so I”m gonna be all over Tyler.” He
looked up at Ryan and his grin softened to an affectionate smile. “Does that
sound like fun to you?”
Ryan nodded. He hadn’t talked much since the cafe, and was content to let the
other two talk around and above him. Josh and Mikey didn’t mind either, and
they didn’t question Ryan. They knew that he needed time to process and cope
and heal.
They were doing more than Ryan could ever ask for, and he was grateful beyond
words.
“Ry?”
Ryan looked up, to Josh, and nodded. “Sounds like fun,” he agreed.
Josh bit his lip. “… Ry, what did he say to you?”
Ryan glanced to him and knew what he was referring too and knew that Josh was
hoping Ryan hadn’t noticed. He shrugged, ready to cover this up. “We only
talked about me and him and what we had in store for our future. Or… or, his
future and my future. We just… we talked about that.”
Josh nodded, because he'd already heard this a couple times. Mikey and Josh had
been unsubtly interrogating Ryan over the conversation that had happened after
they’d left. He hadn’t told them much over the last few hours, because he
didn’t feel ready to spill the beans. He knew he would be, eventually— just not
yet.
“Guys, you won’t believe what he got us,” Mikey laughed as he came forward,
jingling keys. “A fucking pastel blue, Volkswagen bus. A 1951 Samba.” He
giggled. “A fucking hippie bus!”
“I’m in love with your brother,” Josh deadpanned.
“Me too,” Mikey snickered.
“When do we leave?” Ryan asked.
Mikey glanced around the city, the tall towers and all the people, the noise
and lights and chaos, and grimaced. “Right now.”
Ryan was happy to watch the city disappear in the rearview mirror.
. . .
“Ohio,” Josh hummed as they drove. “My home town! Lovely Ohio, state of the… of
the waffle?” Josh giggled and nudged Ryan, who was sitting next to him in the
row behind the driver’s seat. They’d taken out the front passenger seat and
shoved it in the back so Mikey could have all his precious snacks up front with
him.
Ryan and Josh had, so far, stretched out together in the second row. There was
one more row behind them, then the rest of the back of the van was open and
empty. The allowed time for their trip would be forty-one hours, nonstop, but
they were gonna take their time. Mikey estimated it would take them five days
to a week. Ryan didn’t care if it took forever. He wanted to be somewhere where
he wouldn’t have to remember his name, because no one would care enough to ask.
Ryan wanted it to be that way for a long time.
“We should, like…” Josh faltered. “Jesus, I don’t know. I fucking love Ohio,
but it’s not LA and it’s not Chicago. I don’t know. We’ve got hills and pretty
shit and all this landscape, but unless you guys are up to hiking, we’re better
off just driving through and enjoying what we see.”
“I’m down with that,” Mikey said. “It looks pretty.”
Josh giggled and pat Ryan’s knee. “Dude, we’re gonna see the pretty landscape
of my hometown. They don’t know me. They probably never will, you know? And I’m
totally cool with that. I’ve got all the people I need right here.” He threw a
Twizzler at the back of Mikey’s head. “Ryan and Mikey. My bros. My familia, my
main village man!” He giggled and threw his arms in the air. “I’m so excited!
Look at those rolling hills and the trees and… And the stuff.”
“And the stuff,” Mikey parroted, giggling. He was actively scanning the road
around them. “Jesus, there’s nothing here. At least for now.”
Ryan lied back against Josh’s thigh and shut his eyes, falling asleep.
. . .
Indiana was a lot of nothing, too. Flat fields with the occasional trees. Ryan
loved the simplicity. They stopped at a gas station and Ryan ended up wandering
into this tall grass that went on for miles. He’d dropped into the grass and
lied there on the broken stalks and the dirt, staring up at the blue sky.
He’d left his phone in the car, so he didn’t know Josh and Mikey are looking
for him until Josh literally tripped over his arm and hit the ground to his
left.
“Fucking shit!”
Ryan rolled onto his side and nudged Josh. “You okay?” he asked softly.
Josh was quiet, and Ryan couldn’t really see him that well. The grass was very
sturdy and resilient. Ryan parted some of the stalks, sitting up to see Josh
better. Josh was lying flat on his stomach, not talking.
Joshy?” Ryan prodded gently.
“There’s dirt all over me,” Josh said, though it was muffled and sounded more
like, “‘ere’th dirth all o’er meh.”
Ryan smile a bit and reached out to pet Josh’s hair. He was so emotionally
strung out that he was just exhausted at this point. Minimal talking and
lethargic actions with almost nonexistent thoughts was Ryan’s best bet right
now. He didn’t want to do much else anyways.
“There you are,” Mikey panted, running up to them. He stopped short of them,
not tripping over the two fallen men. Mikey kinda stared at them, grinning,
though it was unsure. “What’re you guys doing? Like, should I be joining in?”
He looked up at the sky, inferring what Ryan, at least, had been doing. “Are
aliens coming? How long? How far should we run? Or can we run at all?” Mikey
sat on the ground beside them, still looking up. “Wouldn’t that be so fucking
surreal?”
“Do you want that to happen, or are you just being morbid?” Josh asked. Josh
had finally sat up, leaning against Ryan a bit as he craned his neck back to
look upwards. Ryan wondered what they must look like to anyone on the outside
of their actions.
“Being morbid,” Mikey snorted. “Dude, I don’t want the world to end. I’ve got
to get back to my husband before that.”
“You’re so romantic,” Ryan murmured.
“The most romantic,” Mikey agreed with a slow nod. “I’m your every day
Cinderella story. Y’all wish you were more like this sexy bitch.”
“Emphasis on bitch,” Josh teased.
Mikey put an arm around Josh’s neck and tried to push his face into the dirt.
Josh cackled and pushed back, not giving up. Mikey tried to stand firm, but
Josh ended up pushing him into the dirt instead.
“Fucking uncle, you cock sucker!” Mikey was crying out, trying to get Josh off.
“Fucking fuck your fucking uncle, get off!”
Josh was giggled and sitting on Mikey’s stomach. “Dude, you’re so weak.”
Mikey shoved his middle finger into Josh’s face. “I’m not gonna drive if you
don’t get off me right now.”
Josh got off Mikey and sprinted for the van.
. . .
“God, I’ve missed Chicago,” Mikey told Ryan as they sat in front of the Bean,
watching al the people. They were waiting for Josh to come back with Jenna and
Tyler after the lunch rush. Tyler and Jenna had been able to hire a few more
employees to help them with the trucks, so it wouldn’t be a big deal if they
left to visit, not if it was only for a few hours. “I mean, LA is the place to
be for any reason at all. Chicago’s just home.”
Ryan nodded, looking around the city. They were spending the night in Chicago
because they wanted to. Ryan wanted to sleep in the familiar city. He wanted
the window open and he wanted to listen to the violence the was a comfort to
him. Ryan didn’t care if the knowledge that the murder capitol of America was
the place he felt safest. He just wanted to actually feel safe.
“Kinda wanna see the park Ray proposed to be in,” Mikey murmured. “I wanna
carve our initials into that tree.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “That actually sounds like a good idea.”
“How could it not me?” Mikey asked with a smirked. “Dude, we should do that
tomorrow before we leave. Maybe zip by the park on our way out.”
“I’d love to do that,” Ryan said with a serene expression. He looked up at the
black sky and kept smiling. Then he nudged Mikey. “This is that moment when
they’d play “Let’s See How Far We’ve Come” by Matchbox Twenty.”
Mikey chortled and nudged Ryan back. “Dude? I fucking love you.”
“I love you too,” Ryan hummed. He meant to keep talking when he was suddenly
whisked to the side, almost falling to the ground. But someone kept him
standing and Ryan turned his head to see Tyler, laughing and holding him,
making stupid faces across the way to Josh.
“He’s fucking mine now!” Tyler cackled.
Josh was jogging forward, looking like he was a little tired of Tyler’s shit,
but in a good way. “You fucking dick,” he snorted. “What do I tell Jenna?”
“Yeah!” Jenna called out, giggling. “What are you gonna tell me?”
Mikey snorted and came to Ryan’s rescue, pulling Ryan from Tyler while Ryan was
distracted by Jenna, who was wailing like a ghost and pretending to cry, going
on and on about how Tyler was cheating on him with a more attractive woman.
Ryan didn’t even mind being called a woman. He was kinda happy.
“Let’s get some food in the skinny boy,” Jenna said, smiling softly at Ryan.
She obviously knew what had happened. Ryan hadn’t expected Josh not to tell
them, so he wasn’t upset. He was actually relieved happy they already knew,
because then they wouldn’t expect him to talk about it.
“Anyone feeling Frontera?” Tyler asked. That Mexican place on Clark?”
“Oh my god, yes,” Josh moaned. “Please. I fucking need to eat there again.”
“You good with that, Ryan?” Jenna asked.
Ryan nodded and smiled a bit again.
“Fuck yes!” Josh shouted, punching the air with his fist. “Let’s fucking eat
something!”
Mikey pulled Ryan along and Ryan was happy to go.
. . .
Ryan collapsed onto Josh’s old bed in Tyler and Jenna’s apartment. It was the
same mattress with the same sheets with the same fabric softener. He breathed
in the scene with a long breath in and out, though knew without a doubt that
the only thing missing was Josh’s scent along side it. He sighed unhappily at
the realization.
“Hey.”
Ryan looked to the doorway and waved at Tyler. Tyler walked into the room and
lied down on the bed beside Ryan. Ryan grabbed a pillow and held it to his
stomach, curling around the pillow and waving again.
“Can I talk to you?” Tyler asked.
Ryan’s expression became guarded.
“About Josh.”
Then Ryan’s expression became worried.
“Nothing bad,” Tyler sighed. “Just… Josh told me Brendon said something kinda
important. About Josh, really. And about you.”
Ryan paused, then nodded slowly.
Tyler paused, visibly thinking. “Brendon said that you wouldn't give Josh what
he wanted.”
Ryan didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure if Brendon had said that at all. He
couldn’t remember much of the fine details. He just remembered wanting to jump
in front of a bus the whole time. But then again, he remembered Josh getting
upset and even antsy, like he was scared someone was gonna give up a secret
that they shouldn’t even know of. So he just shrugged.
“I want to know what you think of that,” Tyler told Ryan.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ryan admitted.
Tyler paused. “… Josh is in love with you, Ryan.”
Ryan watched Tyler’s expression for anything to tell him that he was lying or
trying to trick Ryan. He wasn’t sure if he was okay with Josh being in love
with him or not, but he didn’t want to even consider the possibility if it
wasn’t true.
“What makes you say that?” Ryan asked neutrally.
“The fact that he called me, crying, talking about how much Brendon was hurting
you and how he’d never do that if you were with him again.”
Ryan winced.
“I need to know if there’s a chance or not,” Tyler requested softly. “So I can
tell Josh to give up if I should have to.”
Ryan looked up ate the ceiling and thought. Like, really thought.
Through fucking everything, there had been three constants.
The first was that Ryan’s family would be there for him. Gerard, Frank, Mikey,
Ray, Pete, and Patrick— they would be there for him. They’d pick him up if he
hit the ground and bandage anything that broke from the fall. They would help
piece together any shards and would wake Ryan up from any nightmare. They would
always, through everything, be there for Ryan.
The second was that Brendon would, intentionally or unintentionally, hurt Ryan.
He’d either say something that he didn’t realize was wrong to say, or he’d tear
Ryan’s heart out, just as he’d done with Ryan’s wings. Brendon was an amazing
boy and Ryan loved him with everything he had, but Brendon would undeniably
find new ways to hurt him without even trying. Whether it was the world around
him in the puzzle in his head, Brendon was good at hurting Ryan.
The third thing Ryan knew was a constant was Josh. It wouldn’t matter where
Ryan was, he only had to call Josh with a little S.O.S., and he would be there
for Ryan. And Ryan knew that Josh loved him. Maybe not so far as being in love
with him, but Josh loved him. Josh supported him. Josh would encourage and
critique and be everything Ryan needed without hesitation.
Josh was…
Josh was kinda the only reason Ryan was still around, really. Or, he was the
main reason. He’d been the most encouraging after Ryan’s suicide attempt. He’d
been there even when he’d been scorned by Gerard. He’d given Ryan ways out of
horrible things numerous times. He’d been Ryan’s saving grace, Ryan’s own
angel.
Ryan bit his lip as he went deeper into his own head.
Josh was just everything, really. He was kind and loving and didn’t pressure
Ryan into doing anything he didn’t want. He didn’t make Ryan guilty for being
unable to do certain things and certainly didn’t look down on Ryan for anything
like that, either. Josh loved Ryan. Josh was in love with Ryan. And there was
so much to it all, so much Ryan didn’t know, so much out there and in there and
fucking everywhere with hollow names and broken souls and, and, and—
“Josh loves me, right?” Ryan asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear
it once more from Tyler. Tyler knew Josh better than anyone else.
“Josh loves you,” Tyler told him gently.
Ryan bit his lip. “I think I could fall in love with him too.”
Tyler paused. “… Are you sure about that?”

Ryan nodded. “I-I’m not over
Brendon,” he said. “I never will be, just like how Josh will never be over
Debby. I mean, how do you get over your soulmate? You just… It’s impossible.
You can never forget that bond, a-and it’s driven people insane. You can never
f-f-forget, not m-matter how hard I t-t-t-try t-to…”
Ryan trailed, off, clutching at his head, suddenly overwhelmed by an onslaught
of fucking horrific pain. His mouth fell open and he tried to cry out to ask
for any sort of help. Ryan felt like all the blood in his body was suddenly in
his head, pulsing and swelling behind his eyes. It was so bad that he wished he
could drive pencils into his eyes or temples to relieve the pressure.
Then Ryan lost control of every fucking limb, every fucking vein, ever fucking
nerve in his body. Light flashed inside his mind, his mouth tasted like curry,
and he couldn’t hear a thing.
He blacked out.
. . .
Ryan heard Mikey’s voice before he could actual hear anything.
“We were so hopeful,” Mikey said in a strained voice, like he was crying. “But,
but the seizure had to be from the surgery. There, we…” Mikey sobbed and Ryan
really wanted to actually wake up. “We thought he’d be fine, b-but…”
“He’s awake.”
When Ryan heard him say that, he was a bit surprised, because Ryan definitely
wasn’t awake. He couldn’t see anything but darkness.
“Ryan?”
Ryan tried really hard to open his eyes.
“Ryan, baby, can you see us?”
Ryan stopped trying and wondered why Josh would ask us that.
“He’s staring at nothing, Tyler,” he heard Jenna whisper.
Jesus.
Fuck.
Fucking jesus, Ryan’s eyes were open and he couldn’t see.
“Help,” Ryan whispered, so close to panicking.
“Oh god, baby,” he heard Josh say.
“Don’t touch him,” Mikey ordered. “Just, just let him lie there. Let the blood
get out of his head, okay? It could just be swelling. He, he’s fine, he can get
his eyes back, it’s fine. Just don’t panic and he won’t panic and everything
will be okay.”
“It’s okay,” Josh agreed. “It’s fine.”
Ryan whimpered and reached out blindly. Someone took his hand, and Ryan had a
hunch. “J-Josh?”
“It’s me, Ry,” Josh murmured, squeezing Ryan’s hand. “I’m here.”
Ryan nodded and focused on not focusing on a damn thing.
. . .
When Ryan got his eyes back, the first thing he saw was Josh’s face.
Ryan looked and looked and found it chillingly poetic that it would be Josh, of
all people. He realized that he truly could try to fall in love with Josh. It
had been so easy to fall into sex with him, so love couldn’t be hard. He
already loved Josh. Falling in love couldn’t be hard, not when it was Josh
fucking Dun.
Josh was asleep, and Ryan wanted to let him sleep. He was sore as hell and
didn’t want to get up, but he knew Mikey and Tyler and Jenna would be just as
worried. Ryan still couldn’t get up, so he just started groaning. That was how
he also realized his throat hurt a whole fucking lot.
“Ryan?”
Ryan could barely turn his neck to see Tyler. He quirked the corner of his
mouth up into a smile.
“Jesus,” Tyler breathed. “Thank god. We were really worried when you were so
fucking zoned out. Like you were honestly blind. Like you were going to lose
your eyesight forever. Especially since that’s an actual, possible side
effect.”
Ryan just blinked sluggishly.
“Guess it’s hard for you to talk right now, huh?” Tyler sighed. “Well, look—
you had a seizure. It was… I, I don’t know if it was bad or not. I don’t have
much experience with seizures. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t know
fucking shit. And it was scary.”
“Mikey?” Ryan asked.
“Freaking out,” Tyler sighed. “Quietly. You wouldn't be able to tell unless you
know him. I don’t really know him, but Josh does, you know, and Josh said he
was freaking out.”
“Mikey,” Ryan repeated with a rasp.
Tyler looked a little confused before finally catching on. “I’ll get him for
you,” he said, moving out of Ryan’s line of sight. Ryan heard the door open and
also heard Mikey talking to someone on the phone. He did sound really frazzled
and upset. Ryan felt guilty, though he knew it was fucking stupid to feel
guilty about having a seizure. There were a few whispers before Mikey came into
Ryan’s line of slight, looking immensely relieved.
“Ryan,” he breathed, crawling onto the bed. Josh groaned softly and stirred,
but Mikey didn’t notice, only having eyes for Ryan. “Ry, baby… A-are you okay?”
Ryan nodded sluggishly
“Fuck, I was so scared.” Mikey reached out and brushed Ryan’s shaggy hair from
his face. “You, you must’ve been so scared, too. I can’t even begin to imagine
what you were going through. That sort of fear, that, that complete loss of
self, all of that—”
“Mikey, stop,” Josh interrupted form behind the blond. Mikey stuttered to a
halt and looked to Josh, then back to Ryan. Mikey bit his lip when he saw how
nervous Mikey’s words were making him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Just be careful,” Josh sighed. “Ryan’s… resting.”
Ryan nodded, because that’s what he was doing. He was totally resting. He
didn’t want to feel much of anything right now, or at least, anything negative.
He wanted to feel either nothingness of awesomeness.
Ryan cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. He started opening and
closing his mouth, flexing his throat like he was warming up for some sort of
performance. He wished he could perform. He really, kinda wanted that.
Ryan sighed and Mikey ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “Look, Ryan, you
should just fall asleep again. It’s not even midnight yet. If you wake up after
five hours, you can eat, but not before that. Sleep through this, okay? There’s
not, like, risk of a coma or anything. You didn’t hit your head, so you don’t
have a concussion. You, you’re okay. I mean, if we ignore the fact that you had
a seizure, you’re okay.”
Ryan nodded, his eyelids already drooping at the aspect of feeling nothing.
“I love you, Ry,” Mikey murmured.
Ryan made the ASL symbol for “I love you,” in response, smiling a bit. Then he
shut his eyes and waited to fall asleep.
. . .
He woke up with Josh across from him again. It was dark outside, but Ryan could
make out the beginnings of a sunrise, purple splayed out against the black. He
sighed and rolled onto his back, happy to notice that it didn’t cause agonizing
pain to shoot through every muscle. He sighed softly in relief, stretching his
arms out to the sides, letting his right arm linger above Josh’s head, on the
part of Josh’s pillow that was unoccupied.
Ryan watched Josh’s sleeping face for a long moment, before leaning in
carefully and placing a gentle, familiar kiss to the corner of Josh’s lips. He
smiled to himself when he pulled away, basking in the sense of calm just the
touch of Josh’s breath to Ryan’s skin had made. Ryan knew it was dangerously
easy to give in without a thought.
But then again, Ryan had already given this a thousand thoughts.
“Gonna say something, or are you gonna kiss me again?” Josh asked in a whisper.
Ryan would’ve jumped from the surprise at realizing Josh had been awake, but
he’d just had a fucking seizure and didn’t see much point in agonizing over
little things like that. Not when he knew that he wasn’t going to fall in love
by himself.
“Wanna try again?” Ryan asked, his throat still a little scratchy. “With a
little more love than sex.”
Josh smiled crookedly and nodded. “I’d love to.”
. . .
They left Chicago with promises to return. Josh and Tyler had traded about ten
(manly) hugs, before finally leaving. Mikey was the go-to driver simply because
Ryan was too out of it, and Josh was too invested in Ryan. If that weren’t the
case, Ryan wouldn’t be letting Mikey anywhere nearly a steering wheel, whether
or not it was attached to a car.
Iowa was the same as Indiana and Ohio, and probably the same as Illinois, if
Ryan didn’t know better. He knew Illinois as Chicago. He knew it wasn’t flat.
Josh had even admitted that Ohio was pretty flat. Chicago was fucking amazing
and not flat.
“So you two are a thing now?” Mikey asked from the front. “Not, like, a friends
with benefits thing, but romantic? Actually romantic? Not just me watching you
two from afar, wishing you’d date?”
“You wanted me and Ry to date?” Josh asked incredulously.
“We all did, to an extent.” Mikey chuckled. “Gee would say all this shit under
his breath about you both being cuter than him and Frank. He would joke that
you were trying to steak the title and shit. It was adorable. He was so jealous
and shit.”
“That’s so weird,” Ryan murmured.
“Ryan’s right,” Josh agreed. “That’s fucking weird.”
“So we shipped you guys? It’s not that big of a deal. I ship my friends all the
time. I ship me and Pete a little bit. You tend to do that after a one night
stand in the middle of your friendship with a guy.” Mikey smirked to himself.
“That was a good night.”
“I feel sorry for your husband,” Ryan deadpanned.
Mikey looked hurt in the rearview mirror. Then he swerved to avoid a squirrel
or another and Ryan toppled out of the seat because he’d been lying on his back
with his head in Josh’s lap. Ryan yelped as he hit the floor. It didn’t hurt,
but he just wanted to be a piece of shit.
“Oh fuck, Ryan, I’m so sorry,” Mikey whimpered, sounding so distressed. Ryan
started giggling and turned his head to look at the back of Mikey’s seat. Then
he flailed his arm out to let Mikey know he was okay. Josh helped Ryan back up
into the seat and kicked Mikey’s seat. “Ryan, I’m sorry,” Mikey continued. Ryan
began to feel bad.
“It’s fine, Mikey,” Ryan giggled. “Dude, I could’ve caught myself. Just being a
dick. My bad.”
Mikey kept glancing back at Ryan through the mirror, watching him like he was
terrified Ryan would fall again. Honestly, he should be looking at the road
instead.
“Look at the road,” he teased. Mikey snapped his head forward and sang along
nervously to the rap song playing over the radio. Ryan thought Mikey sounded
ridiculous when he tried to rap, but he also knew it was just fucking Mikey, so
he didn’t mind at all.
“Never become a rapper,” Josh told Mikey with a snort.
Mikey just started to rap louder.
. . .
Ryan made them stop in Colorado because he fucking could. Specifically,
Colorado Springs. He didn’t know anything about it, except that there was an
entire air force inside the mountain that was at the foot of the town and the
accompanying military base.
“Cheyenne mountain?” Josh repeated, looking up at the mound from the car. They
had pulled over on the side of the road to get a better look. It was a just a
mountain, really, and Ryan had hoped he’d get to see some sort of plane action,
or whatever came out of the air force, if anything. Still, the weather was
really nice and Ryan was two days from his seizure without any complications,
so everything was pretty fucking awesome so far.
“This is lame,” Mikey said, though he was grinning, so Ryan didn’t entirely
believe him. “Food. I want fucking food. What’s good to eat around here? And
how old do I have to be to buy weed?”
“Legally? Twenty-one, I think.” Ryan shrugged. “Eighteen or twenty-one.”
“I wanna buy some weed,” Josh moaned.
“How about we stick to food, for now?” Ryan suggested. He really liked their
new van and didn’t want it to smell entirely of weed yet. “I’ve heard of this
pizza place here that’s, like, cool and stuff.” Another one of the reasons why
he’d wanted to stop.
“Cool and stuff,” Mikey parroted with a slow drawl. “Good adjectives. Aren’t
you a writer?”
“Only lyrics,” Ryan said dismissively.
“Only lyrics,” Mikey parroted again. Ryan flipped him off and slid back inside
the car. As he did, looking at the mountain, he swore he saw a few uniform
flashes from a random spot on the side. Ryan grinned to himself and looked up
the pizza place so Mikey and Josh would shut up about the weed.
. . .
“Oh my god,” Mikey moaned, cheese stringing down from his lips. He was half a
pizza pie in, and showed no signs of stopping. Ryan and Josh had their own
pizzas, too. Josh’s was covered in were shit that Ryan wouldn’t dare eat, and
Ryan just had pepperoni, because he was a partial purist. And his pizza was,
just, fuck.
The pizza joint was indeed called Fargos, and was decorated like a classy
ballroom/dining area from the richer western era. Deep brows and reds and cream
shades filled Ryan’s vision. There was an arcade and a piano that played
itself, a salad bar, and the number for your order came up on mirrors placed
strategically around the joint, on the walls. Ryan was a little in love, and
Josh was pressed up against his side, familiar and warm.
“Dude, guys, this pizza,” Mikey moaned. “I’m the third wheel and shit, but this
pizza is worth it. We have to get some to go. We, we have to get this whole
place to go. And we have to make Gee and Frankie and Pete and Pat try it.
Especially Pete. Pete will just his pants and Pat will clean it up with his
tongue and whatever he can’t clean up will go on his pizza slice and he’ll
fucking love that shit.”
Ryan looked down at the melted cheese and grimaced.
“Gross,” Josh giggled. “God, Mikey, you’re not a third wheel. You’re the
steering wheel. Literally. You drive this gay bicycle. You’re the alpha homo.”
“Alpha homo,” Mikey repeated reverently. “I am the alpha homo.”
Josh giggled harder and Ryan thought he sounded a little like Frank.
“I’m gonna get that tattooed,” Mikey said, even though he didn’t have any
tattoos. “I’m gonna get that, and this, like, cool spider thing my brother had
designed for that new comic of his. Frank hates that spider.” He grinned wide.
“Frank threatened no sex when he saw that thing. Especially since it’s gonna go
on everything, including promo art, which, you know. All of Gee’s promotional
stuff goes in our living room.”
“I love all his art,” Josh said offhandedly.
“Frank’s really pissed about the spider,” Mikey continued. “But the character
Gee made for him is fucking is badass! Fun Ghoul, yeah? Yeah. And I’m Kobra
Kid” He looked smug. “I’m pretty fucking sexy.”
“That sounds cool,” Ryan hummed.
“Fuck yeah it is,” Mikey affirmed. “Ray’s Jet Star and Gee’s fucking Party
Poison. Do you know who you are?”
Ryan shook his head. He’d barely heard about this storyline.
“You’re Show Pony,” Mikey giggled. “A fabulous roller skater who wears spandex
fucking everywhere. He’s, like, the main voice for Doctor Death Defying. Dr. D
is Pete and Pat, like, morphed together, though Gee jokes Patrick’s actually
the Girl.”
“The girl.” Ryan frowned. “Who’s she?”
Mikey shrugged. “Some wunderkind or savior. She’s cool. Night hair.”
“And my greatest writing achievement was basically copying the Fox and the
Hound,” Josh snickered. “I can’t write anything. I wish I could. I’d love to
write stories. Or maybe? Not really. I’m cool with letting others tell the
stories.”
“You’re such an adult,” Mikey snorted. “Dude, eat your fucking pizza. I’m
making you dicks look bad.” Mikey started his last piece of pizza tried to
waggle his brow in a ridiculous manner. But sometimes Mikey had shitty facial
control, and it just looks like he was winking only halfway.
Ryan giggled and went back to his pizza, just to appease the sassy Mikey. Josh
snorted and put an arm around Ryan.
“There’s something else that I’d rather eat,” Josh said, and Ryan went red
enough to match his pepperoni slices.
. . .
“Do you guys wanna go on a hike or something?”
Ryan looked up from rubbing his full stomach to see Josh was looking out the
window. He was actually driving, only because Mikey had ended up eating half of
Josh’s pizza too. For a skinny guy, Mikey could really pack it away.
“Hikes require so much energy,” Mikey groaned. “Don’t do this to me, Joshy-
poo.”
“You called me Joshy-poo,” Josh said. “I’m fucking doing it. We’re going on a
hike and it’s going to be because you provoked me. You reap what you sow, you
asshat. I’m fight you and leave you on top of the mountain or whatever.
“I’d love a hike,” Ryan murmured,
Mikey groaned. “Fine,” he huffed. “A fucking hike.”
. . .
They went to North Cheyenne Canon Park and Ryan fell in love with the place.
Sitting by the pristine river, watching the light dance across the ripples,
breathing in the gorgeous mountain air, Ryan finally felt okay. The water was
cool between his toes. His jeans were rolled up his legs and his shoes were set
off to the side so they wouldn’t get wet. Mikey and Josh hadn’t cared as much.
They’d left to wander up a trail that was across the river.
Ryan trailed his fingers through the water and just existed. He heard birds
chirping and there weren’t any human voices for at least a mile. The canyon was
oddly empty, and Ryan loved it. He looked across the bank and saw a a squirrel
dart up a tree. He splashed water across the rocks to try and get some of the
drier rocks wet. It was a nice way to kill time.
Ryan sighed softly in contentment, looking out into the dabble of rays of sun
peaking through the leaves. He finally felt at peace. True, inner peace. He
could think about nothing and everything and he was content to do either. It
didn’t matter what had happened to him in the past years. He was happy here, in
the trees, watching life just live.
He was also very, very sleepy.
Ryan leaned back against a rock and watched the water, smiling to himself. He
was lazy and comfortable and his stomach was full. He was with Mikey and Josh
and they were driving down their nice little country that was great, as long as
he didn’t look at the people. But the place itself was amazing.
What struck Ryan was, that, ever since dreaming with Brendon, he’d lived his
life wishing Brendon was with him to experience all of these amazing things.
He’d wanted Brendon there for holidays, birthdays, vacations, the beach and the
park and the fucking McDonalds if he could. But now, after New York… Ryan was
content to just want to be by himself. Not forever. Not for long. He didn’t
want to be without his family. This little moment, though— this was perfect.
Ryan drifted off against the rock, lulled to sleep by the world around him. He
was roused by Mikey and Josh. Ryan opened his eyes to see twin, worried
expressions, but smiled sleepily and stretched, a silent testament to him being
okay. He sat up carefully, looking around that the canyon.
“What’s up?” he asked, his words actually slurring a bit. He was gonna pass out
once they were on the road again.
“You were just lying on the ground,” Josh told him. “We… We freaked.”
Ryan frowned. “You freaked?”
Mikey winced. “Uh, so, Gee wants you to go to the hospital once we’re back.”
Ryan groaned and lied back down on the ground.
“Told you he’d be upset,” Josh mumbled.
“It looked like he’d had another seizure or something,” Mikey huffed. “I had to
do something. We can’t just sit by and let that happen again. It took him full
day to recover. We’re driving straight through Utah tomorrow and then we’re in
Vegas, we can’t afford to put any more strain on him.”
“I’m fine, guys,” Ryan sighed. “Calm down…”
“Calm down?” Josh repeated. “You’ve had a seizure. You looked passed out when
we came back. There’s no way for us to remain calm about this when they cut
into your brain and switched things around, all for some fucking asshole little
punk of a kid who doesn’t even fucking care about you!”
Ryan faltered, blindsided by the outburst. “Josh?”
Josh went quiet and ducked his head, blinking a lot. Ryan suddenly noticed he
was tearing up.
“I just—” Josh cut himself off to clear his throat. “… Ryan, I can’t stand what
he did to you. How he made you feel. How he treated you, the things he said to
you, the things he did to you, a-and the things he made you do.”
Ryan nodded slowly to show he understood. Not necessarily agreed, but he
understood why Josh was upset.
“I-I just can’t imagine him hurting you, or anyone like you,” Josh continued.
“You, you’re a good fucking person. I mean, you’ve fucked up. Everyone fucks
up, and you’re definitely not perfect, but jesus christ, you got dealt some of
the shittiest hands and you didn’t shoot up a mall or something. You didn’t
lose your mind. You didn’t lash out at us irrevocably. You didn’t hit people or
drive everyone away. You didn’t get angry at the world. You just did your best
to get through it, a-and you deserved to have your fucking soulmate, the person
you fought for, with you. B-but just because you couldn’t have sex with him, he
left, a-and…”
Ryan reached out and wordlessly took Josh’s hand. He leaned in to gently press
their lips together and left it at that. Aside from Mikey’s questioning, he and
Josh hadn’t actually discussed or even mention doing a thing together,
romantically. He wanted to explore something more with Josh. He wouldn’t want
to get serious so soon after Brendon, now that he thought about it, but he
definitely knew he and Josh had some sort of chemistry. Holding Josh’s hand
just seemed natural to him, and so did comforting the other man. He hated
seeing Josh cry. It was just wrong on an almost cellular level to Ryan. He
squeezed Josh’s hand until Josh looked to him, and then smiled at the other
man.
“It’s okay,” he told Josh softly. “I understand why you’re upset.” He
brightened his smile just a bit, for Josh. “It’s in the past. He can’t hurt me
anymore.”


“You’re fucking right he can’t,” Josh grit out. “I won’t let him.” Josh
hesitated. “… I love you, Ryan. Honest to god love you. I, I don’t know what
you want, but I know I want you. There’s a lot that can go wrong and just as
much that can go right.” He took in a shaky breath. “So, i-if you’re willing,
I’d like to try.”
Ryan giggled and nodded, leaning in and resting his head on Josh’s shoulder. He
reached out blindly for Mikey and pulled the other man into the hug, so it was
just the three of them, embracing net to the river in the cool mountain air.
And it was just fucking nice.
. . .
“On the road again!” Josh sang, way out of key. “Just can’t wait to get on the
road again! The life I love is making music with my friends! And I can’t wait
to be on the road again!”
“We should keep going with the band,” Mikey said from the back as Ryan tried to
braid Mikey’s hair. “I mean, we could be really good. Ryan’s got the music,
I’ve got the tunes, Josh has got those phat beats— we could totally do it. We
should do it. You and me and you. This could be the best thing ever. We could
be the best thing ever. We could do as Willie Nelson does— make music with our
friends and be on the road again.”
“We don’t have a singer,” Ryan reminded him.
Josh and Mikey met eyes in the rearview mirror and let out twin sounds of
incredulousness. “Dude, you’re our singer.”
Ryan grimaced and tugged at Mikey’s hair. Not enough to hurt, but also enough
to show wasn’t buying that bullshit.
“I mean it,” Mikey insisted. “You sound fucking great, Ryan. We’ll back you up.
We’ll defend our amazing lead singer to the end of the world and back. You’ve
got a fucking awesome voice. It’ll set us apart.”
Ryan just shrugged.
“I’d love to keep up with a band,” Josh said. “I’ve got that drum set for a
reason.”
Ryan hesitated. “… I-I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Mikey teased.
Ryan tugged at his hair again in passive aggressive retaliation.
Josh started singing again, and Ryan started to sing along.
. . .
Josh insisted taking a picture at the Vegas sign at the beginning of the strip.
“I’m fucking fabulous and you wish you were me!” Josh shouted as he took the
selfie. “Gotta upload this for my three followers!”
“Two follows,” Mikey clarified. “I unfollowed yesterday.”
Josh flipped him off. “You never followed me in the first place.”
“I follow you,” Ryan defended.
“Wait, really?” Josh checked his phone and giggled. “Dude! Tyler, Jenna, my
mom, and my boyfriend!” Josh kinda froze when he saw that, eyes darting between
Mikey and Ryan like he was wondering if they’d heard.
“Boyfriend,” Mikey teased. “Ryan and Joshy, sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”
“Fuck off, Mikey,” Ryan giggled. “Boyfriend sounds perfect.”
Josh blushed and looked to Ryan with wide, hopeful eyes. “Really?”
Ryan nodded and didn’t say more.
“I got us a hotel at Mandalay,” Mikey said. “And, uh, Pete and Pat are gonna
crash with us.”
Ryan perked up. “For real?”
Mikey nodded. “They’re fucking worried, Ry. They’ve missed you. That tour took
‘em away for a while, and Pete feels like shit that he couldn’t be here for you
while all of this happened. You know Pete. And I know you know that he would’ve
been here if he could have.”
“I’m not upset with Pete,” Ryan said simply.
Mikey nodded. “Okay. Good. Yeah, good.” He herded Josh back into the van and
headed just a block down from the sign, pulling in to the valet parking for the
Mandalay. As Ryan looked around, he felt an odd sense deja vu. He kind felt
that way about this whole city.
Mikey checked them in and waggled the keycard under Ryan’s nose. Ryan wasn’t
sure what he was doing, to be honest.
“Stop trying to be cute,” Josh snorted, snatching the keycard from Mikey.
“I don’t have to try,” Mikey hummed. “It just comes naturally.”
Ryan stared at the elevator buttons once they got inside a lift and frowned
when his hitting of the button wouldn’t work. Mikey swiped their room key
first, then hit the button. “It’s pretty fucking exclusive,” Mikey snickered.
“Gee really wanted to go all out for you.”
Ryan smirked a bit. “I’ll be sure to show him my gratitude.”
Mikey led Ryan to the room and when Ryan saw it, he was actually really
impressed. The beds were wide and spacious and Josh said that they passed the
jumping test, which was really just Josh jumping up and down on the beds as
fast as he could without falling off. Ryan looked the view the window gave him.
Mikey raided the fridge and seemed overjoyed to find that everything was
overpriced and tasted the same, which Mikey honestly did love, for some reason.
Ryan ended curling up on the bed closest to the window and stared outside. It
was only noon and Ryan was a little hungry.
“We could go to Hard Rock,” Mikey offered.
So they walked to the only place Ryan could eat at every day in his life
because all the music videos were what would entertain him endlessly. They sat
in a booth against the closest wall and Ryan looked up at the wall, wondering
what it could be like to have his own paraphernalia up there, to have the chain
covet his clothing or records or instruments. Ryan felt like he’d have some
weird vest up there or something. It just seemed like his style.
“God, I would blow someone for these nachos,” Josh groaned, devouring half the
plate. Mikey was giggling and watching Josh, counting aloud how many nachos
Josh could fit in his mouth. “Seriously, Ry? Ry. Try these.”
“I know those nachos intimately,” Ryan assured him, grinning softly.
“Almost as well as you know Josh,” Mikey teased, kicking Ryan under the table.
“Y’all gonna do the sideways hoe-down sometime soon, right? I mean, you’re
boyfriends and shit, and boys are fucking rabbits.”
“I’ll dropkick you like a kangaroo if you ask us about sex again,” Ryan shot
back. Mikey threw a pepper at Ryan, and Ryan failed to dodge, so the pepper hit
his cheek and slid down his face to hit the top of his shirt. Ryan tried to
look down to see where it had landed and ended up giving himself, like, eight
hundred fucking chins. Mikey started laughing obnoxiously and even Josh
snickered at him.
Ryan ended up laughing too.
. . .
The first thing Pete did when he saw Ryan was hug him for over five minutes.
Ryan didn’t even try to pull away. Pete was warm and familiar and he knew Pete
needed this. He knew Pete hated that he couldn’t have been there for the
surgery and the aftermath and fallout. He was willing to do whatever Pete
needed to feel okay again.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Pete whispered into Ryan’s neck.
“It’s okay,” Ryan replied, a bit surprised to realize that he meant it. “It’s
really okay.”
Pete shuddered and Ryan held him closer.
“It’s all okay.”
. . .
Pete had gotten them tickets to that Cirque du Soleil or whatever show for the
Beatles and halfway through, Ryan had realize that Josh and Mikey were right—
they needed to make music together.
He wanted to be on some sort of stage with any number of people— zero to a
fucking thousand, he didn’t care— and he wanted to be playing music and
entertaining that odd number of people and he wanted to have Mikey and Josh
beside him. Maybe Ryan’s voice was shit, maybe it wasn’t. But he couldn’t think
of doing anything else. He was a fucking doctor with a degree he didn’t want.
He didn’t have any sort of actual skill or drive or inspiration. All he could
really do was play guitar and put shitty words in a decent order.
“What would we name the band?” Ryan asked as they walked the strip back to the
Mandalay. It was drizzling steadily, which Ryan heard was rare, but he didn’t
mind. He hopped into a puddle and got Mikey’s pant legs even more soaked.
“What would you guys name what?” Patrick asked as he tried to keep Pete from
splashing Mikey with even more water.
“Our band,” Ryan said.
Pete stopped trying to splash water on Mikey and gaped. “Your band?” He gasped.
“Ryan, you’re gonna have a band? With who? Mikey?”
“And Josh,” Mikey said.
Pete grinned. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome! You guys should show us some of
your stuff! We could help you out! You could tour with us and network and maybe
even play a few openings and that would be so fucking awesome! You, you guys
gotta do that! Oh my god, have you guys read Ryan’s shit?”
Josh grinned and sought out Ryan’s gaze, winking playfully. Ryan blushed and
ducked his head before wandering over to Josh and reaching to hold his hand.
Pete suddenly stopped ranting.
“Woah, wait,” Pete interrupted him. “When did I miss this?”
“Like, three days ago,” Mikey replied without even having to look up to see
what Pete was addressing. “It’s super cute and shit. Ryan had that seizure and
then they were together the net morning.” He splashed at Pete with his feet in
a puddle. “There’s no real story to how it happened. It just happened.”
Pete stared at Josh and Ryan for a moment before nodding. Ryan felt a thrill of
stark relief shoot through him. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if it
had upset Pete. Ryan couldn’t imagine why Pete would be upset, but he knew it
had been a possibility.
“Oh my god, the, the fountains are going off!” Patrick shouted, actually
getting excited. He darted forward and went to one of the ledges. The Bellagio?
Ryan wasn't sure what the hotel was named, but he’d always heard of the
fountains. As he got closer to where Patrick was, he could hear the song “My
Heart Will Go On” pumping through speakers somewhere. The fountain jets were
shooting water up and out in a sort of mild dance that matched the music.
By the end of it, Ryan was fucking bored.
“Well that was disappointing,” Patrick huffed. He looked to Pete and frowned.
“Wait, are you crying?”
Pete stiffened and wiped his eyes quickly before biting out a terse, wavering,
“no.”
Patrick smirked and took Pete’s hand, kissing his cheek. “You’ve got a heart of
gold, baby.”
Pete huffed. “Let’s just get back to the hotel.”
Josh watched them, then reached over to hold Ryan’s hand. When Ryan looked to
him, Josh whispered, “you’ve got a heart of gold, baby.”
Ryan snorted, nudging Josh. “Don’t be a thief.”
“But I am a thief,” Josh said. “How else do you think that I could steal your
heart so easily?”
Ryan blushed.
Josh grinned and kissed Ryan’s cheek like Patrick had kissed Pete. “Come back
to my room, baby,” he beckoned in a hilariously deep voice. “I’m gonna blow
your world away.”
. . .
Back at the hotel, “blowing Ryan’s world away” consisted of ordering room
service and watching Disney movies while Josh played with Ryan’s curly hair and
Mikey boisterously sang alone with Sebastian as the crab tried to get Ariel and
Prince Eric to just fuck already. Mikey started singing it to Ryan and Josh in
particular. Ryan got fed up halfway through the melody and kissed Josh square
on the lips to shut Mikey up.
Josh looked shy and pleased and Mikey fell asleep not even ten minutes later.
. . .
It was a five hour drive home, and Ryan was ready to collapse into his bed. He
felt immensely more alive and whole than he’d been when he’d left. Pulling into
their driveway had been a sort of religious experience. It was dark outside and
the inner lights were on. Ryan could see a shadow moving around, and it had a
huge fucking afro, which meant it was Ray. Ryan felt a lingering sense of guilt
over keeping Mikey away from his husband, but simultaneously knew that if Mikey
really had resented being away, he wouldn’t have stayed.
Mikey seemed very excited to get back to his husband, but he didn’t act on the
excitement showing on his face. He stayed back with Ryan, walking at Ryan’s
pace up to the house. Patrick and Pete were dead on their feet, and Josh was
grabbing their bags, because he had insisted that he could handle all the bags
by himself, denying all help. He’d dug that grave and was welcomed to lie in
it, because Ryan was too tired to be bothered to insist on helping.
Ray opened the door before they reached it and rushed forward, scooping Mikey
up in his arms. At first, Ryan felt uneasy, because Ray was usually a lot more
reserved when it came to affection, so Ryan was worried that Ray was acting
this way because something serious had happened. But then he saw Ray was
smiling into Mikey’s neck and whispering words Ryan couldn’t hear, but
definitely made Mikey smile too, so he guessed Ray just missed Mikey.
“Ryan!” Gerard shouted, running outside. He squeezed Ryan up into a tight hug.
“Been so worried for you! It was like everything just crashed and burned at the
same time! Are you okay? What happened with Brendon! You don’t look like you
wanna die. Are you gonna be okay?”
“I’m gonna be okay,” Ryan promised.
Gerard pulled back, expression brightening. “Really? For real?” He hesitated.
“A-are you sure?”
Ryan nodded, smiling a bit. “The trip helped,” he confessed. “And I had some
revelations. I know I won’t be perfect. Not for a while, maybe not ever again.
I mean, I-I wasn’t really perfect to begin with, but…” He shrugged. “I think I
can move on. Completely. I’ve already started the process.” He smiled a bit
wider. “I’m gonna be okay, Gee.”
Gerard looked like he could cry. “A-and the seizure?”
Ryan shrugged. “A fluke. I’ve felt okay since.”
“A fucking fluke is right!” Frank exclaimed, rushing into Ryan’s personal
space. He reached up and pulled down Ryan’s lower eyelid with a stupid,
considering hum. “Bad news. It wasn’t a fluke. You’re dying. Trust me, I’m a
doctor.”
Ryan snorted and shoved Frank back. “Dick.”
Frank giggled and launched himself forward again to hug Ryan. “Missed you,
dude.”
“Miss you too, you asshole,” Ryan giggled.
Josh shuffled past them with the bags over his shoulders. “Oh my god,” he
grunted. “Mikey bought so much fucking shit.” He grinned breathlessly and Ryan.
“Weights almost as much as you.”
Ryan shoved Josh too, blushing faintly.
Gerard and Frank both gaped.
“No way,” Gerard breathed.
“Did it happen?” Frank asked. “Aren’t you moving on really fast? I mean, I’m
totally cool with it, but woah. You and Josh? For real this time?”
“What do you mean this time?” Ryan asked, not confirming or denying that it was
actually happening. Frank got the message anyways. He started to giggle like a
maniac, jumping up and down on his toes.
“This is awesome,” Frank said. “We need a cake. It’ll say, “congrats on getting
your shit together.” I’ll make it fit on the cake somehow, I fucking will.
We’ll make a banner with the same thing.”
“You do that, and I’m cutting holes in all your underwear,” Ryan said.
“Who says they don’t already have holes in them?” Mikey asked from where he was
making out with Ray like a fucking fool.
“Who says I wear underwear?”Frank shot back.
Mikey blanched. “Fuck, there went my fucking boner.”
Gerard was blushing. “And here’s mine.”
“Fuck all of you,” Ryan laughed, brushing past them to get inside the house.
Josh was waiting there, walking around, stretching his arms to the ceiling as
he took their home in.
“I’m gonna be in our house,” Josh said, heading for the back door, obviously
about to cross the lawn.
“Wait,” Ryan called out softly.
Josh paused, turning to look at Ryan with his brow raised. “What’s up?”
Ryan bit his lip. “… I was serious,” he began. “About being with you. Trying to
fall in love again. I mean, it’s you, you know? I’m sure you don’t know. I’m
sure that doesn’t even make sense to you. But it makes sense to me, makes
perfect sense. Which is why I’m saying it, a-and, I… You know…” He shrugged.
“I’m not doing this right.”
“You’re doing perfectly,” Josh murmured, reaching out and taking Ryan’s hands.
He pulled the man closer, resting their chests together. Josh put his arms
around Ryan’s waist and swayed gently, back and forth. “Don’t worry about it,
Ry. Take your time.”
Ryan shook his head. “Took me a fucking week, Josh, I don’t want to take any
longer.”
“Okay then,” Josh chuckled. “I can wait. Just get it all out now, I guess.”
Ryan nodded and took in a deep breath. “I can fall in love with you,” he said.
“Easily. Easier than breathing. You, you’re Josh. You’re funny and affectionate
and you make all these mistakes that don’t really amount to anything bad. You
make me smile and feel like I matter and I’d be stupid to let you go. I was
stupid to let you go the first time, and I’d be stupid to let it happen again.”
“Damn right you would be,” Josh snorted.
Ryan smirked and ducked down to kiss Josh sweetly. “Wanna go out with me,
Joshy?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Josh moaned, leaning up to kiss Ryan again.
Ryan didn’t pull away until he saw the flash of a camera. He opened his eyes
and looked to see Pete taking a photo. Ryan giggled and blushed and Josh just
laughed.
“You fuckers,” Ryan giggled before ducking back down to continue the kiss. He
didn’t give a shit if anyone was watching, he was just happy to have Josh.
He could do this without Brendon. He could live without him, and still be
happy. Ryan smiled against Josh’s lips and felt confident that he was going to
live happily with his family, and that was all that fucking matter to him.
He could fucking do this.
Chapter End Notes
     all of you are the shit
     thank you for joining me on this wild ride through the virtual pages
     of fanfiction
     may the people scribed inside never read this because that'd be hella
     awkward
***** SEQUEL ALERT *****
Chapter Summary
     So, by popular demand (and the fact that I was able to think of
     something), I've decided to write a sequel for this story.
     It will delve more greatly into the rules of the SM universe and also
     deal with lots of relationships outside of Ryan/Brendon, and it will
     not be as long as this story.
     It will go along with the first ending, not the alternate, so the
     Josh/Ryan ending never happened and things learned/done there did not
     take place.
     The sequel will be posted on May 12th, because that's the day that I
     started this story and that's so serendipitous and fucking cooling :)
     Hope you tune in!
"Our Eyes Shine the Brightest when Our Faces are Covered in Dirt
 
AKA "Bright Eyes"
  Works inspired by this one
      You're_Crashing,_But_You're_No_Wave by momiji_neyuki, RedRomRomance
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