Team Brendon: A Burnt Child Dreads Fire (cont'd)

part 4

"Well that's not suggestive or anything."

Brendon grinned and popped the entire cheese curl into his mouth after playfully wrapping his lips around it. "I guess they're kinda stale but you can have some if you want."

Ryan shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"We don't have a ton of food here but you can have whatever you want. I think my mom's gonna stop at the store before she gets home in the morning."

Ryan nodded and reached for another cheese curl. "So." The sound of the crunching reverberated in his head and overpowered the whir of the ceiling fan. He realized that he really had nothing else to say in the dull, sleepy silence, so he grabbed a few more curls and glanced around.

"Yeah." Brendon giggled. "No, there's not much to do here."

"Well uh, what do you usually do?"

"Eh." Brendon licked some cheese powder off his fingers. "Not a whole hell of a lot, really. I lay in bed sometimes and just listen to stuff, or I'll watch TV because we do get some channels. Just nothing that great. There's also a bunch of videos of recorded stuff, or movies or whatever."

"So you don't... uh..." Ryan was finally realizing that he needed to actually think of something to say before allowing his mouth to make any noise.

"I don't do much. Homework, sleep... sometimes I read but that gets old for me. But usually now I'd be working, then I'd come home and sleep most of the day.

Ryan nodded and started to clean his own fingers to keep himself from saying anything wrong; anything that could remind Brendon of the fact that he seemed to simply exist, and not do much more than that, until Ryan had met him. Ryan was able to see him as much more than an existing object. Brendon was a whole person, and he was overflowing with love, making Ryan feel incredibly spoiled and very responsible. He didn't deserve the good and he wanted to fix the bad, but seeing innocent smiles come across Brendon's face sometimes made Ryan forget how to breathe. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to contain himself enough to be useful.

Ryan opened his mouth as Brendon drew his arm back with a grin, but the flying cheese curl just hit Ryan's cheek and fell to his lap. "You have terrible, terrible aim."

"No, you just can't catch. Throw one at me."

"How about the whole bag?"

"Okay my mouth's not that big."

"Bad aim and you're disgusting!"

Brendon laughed and playfully kicked Ryan's leg. "You're the one talking about aim, Sweetheart."

"This is so wrong, here, stop talking." Ryan laughed while he spoke and tossed two pieces at Brendon, one hitting his chest and another actually making it to his mouth.

Brendon leaned over and grabbed the bottle of soda to take a drink before passing it to Ryan. Nobody mentioned anything, but they liked the Cherry Coke quite a bit better than the wine.

"So what are we doing tonight? It's late."

"Well, it's not that late. Keep in mind I'm usually up 'til like five or something, though." Brendon adjusted a pillow between his back and the armrest of the couch. "Come here."

"Where do you want me to go?"

Brendon spread his legs slightly and tapped his chest. "Just lay down, it's okay."

"Uh... you sure?"

"Yeah, come on."

Ryan grinned. His cheeks were already pink so there wasn't much of a difference when he blushed. He moved carefully and laid down on his side, between Brendon's legs, with his head against the lower part of Brendon's chest. He inadvertently sighed when he exhaled and his heartbeat started to slow. It was adjusting itself to match the beating that he could hear inside Brendon's chest.

"This feels really good."

Ryan nodded but he knew he wouldn't be able to speak. He slowly lifted his hand and laid it in front of his face, wrapped gently around Brendon's side. He wanted to squeeze and feel even closer to the boy but he knew he shouldn't. Small bruises were hidden by his hand and he knew Brendon was trusting him to not make any more.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for Ryan to notice a distinct smell coming from under Brendon's arms. It was strong and he didn't know how he hadn't noticed it before. It was nothing he wasn't familiar with and he decided to just let it go for a while. Brendon's hand was tangled in his hair while his other hand gently rubbed his back. It was nice, but he'd rather have been the one giving the back rub.

"Ryan?"

"Mmm."

"You think your dad's really pissed at you?"

"Yeah."

"He seems a lot cooler than that, though."

"Well, not with this, I guess. I guess I can't blame him because I shouldn't have done it."

"But why can't he just ignore it? I mean... when you told him about us, it seemed like he was actually happy about it... he didn't get pissed at you, and he didn't just ignore it. It seems like he was really happy."

"He was. He is, I know he is. Bren... my dad... he's actually pretty badass, you know? I mean, he's a parent, but as far as those go, I got lucky." Ryan casually reached up to the arm that was raised slightly so Brendon could stroke his hair, and he brought it down, somewhat decreasing the smell and completely holding Brendon's hand. "My mom was totally different, I guess. If she was still around or if she knew about us, I'd be taken out back and shot. She's ridiculous, seriously... when they divorced, my dad basically made it a point to do what he wanted to do, because everything he wanted to do, she'd hate him for. So he got this job, and this job is totally not something my mom would ever be able to deal with. I mean, I told you about how it is there, right?"

Brendon laughed and used his other hand to stroke Ryan's hair. "Yeah, the ice cream. Rainbow and fruity, I remember."

Ryan chuckled. "Yeah, it's an interesting group of people. He loves it there, and he loves the fact that my mom would be too much of a... a tightass bitch to approve of it at all, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Actually, that's how I met Spencer. My dad got that job when I was about four, and they had a little picnic for the families not too long after that. Spencer came with his uncles... my dad works with his uncle--or at least, his uncle's husband-type person. So Spencer was there and he dropped Jell-o on me and I cried and hit him and we ran off to harass some geese, and that was that. Best friends."

"Oh, so you two haven't changed in the slightest?"

"Not at all."

"That explains so much."

"Hey, you hush."

"Hey, Ry... look here."

Ryan tilted his head up and Brendon lowered his. "Well hi you."

"Hey."

"How's the weather up there?"

Brendon chuckled quietly and touched his nose against Ryan's. "It's perfect."

Ryan watched Brendon's eyes drift shut and he allowed his to do the same. Brendon's nervous tongue gently but quickly tickled the roof of Ryan's mouth before becoming tangled momentarily with Ryan's tongue. Keeping one hand on the back of Ryan's head, Brendon touched his other hand to the boy's chin to support him. Ryan's mouth felt like the first thing to have ever cared about Brendon's soul, and it was the first mouth to ever taste it. Brendon had given kisses before, but for once, he was letting it mean something. He wasn't letting it chip anything away from him, maybe except for pieces of what was left of the wall that stood between the two of them.

Ryan didn't know what to do other than wrap his fingers around Brendon's forearm. They rested against the boy's wrist and he could feel the gentle throbbing of a pulse beneath the skin, and Ryan carefully inhaled through his nose. He didn't want to pull away to breathe. He carefully pulled Brendon's soft bottom lip into his mouth and he let his tongue run along the skin; he made a conscious effort to not let is teeth even graze any part of Brendon. He was determined to not cause him any pain. He wanted Brendon to be able to count on him for that; to be able to go to him when everything else hurt too much.

Brendon pulled away for air as soon as Ryan reached up and clenched the boy's ear and some of his hair. He wanted to hold on to something and he was left awkwardly clinging after Brendon lifted his head slightly.

"Sorry."

"Sorry... why sorry?" Ryan breathed slowly but loudly to try to relax himself.

"For stopping." Brendon put his hand on top of Ryan's to let him know it was okay to still hold on to his ear. "Just for making that end."

"Oh... you should be sorry, then..." Ryan managed a breathy chuckle and Brendon kissed the top of his head. He left his face down to breathe against Ryan's hair.

"That... thank you..."

"Where'd you learn that, Bren?"

"Hell, where's you learn it?"

"No idea... you just made me, I think."

"Same." Brendon closed his eyes and breathed. "How did you realize you liked me?"

"I saw you smile once, and just... I don't even know. I can't explain it, I just love you."

"But how did you even know?"

"What?"

"Just... I don't know. That I liked you, and you liked me... that we could actually work..."

"I'm not sure. I just hoped, I guess. But what about you?"

"I don't know."

"Have you been with anyone before?"

Brendon wasn't sure how to answer. "No, I haven't."

"So just... fuck, I don't even know how to ask anything."

"S'alright, baby. I don't know either."

Ryan sighed. He was annoyed with himself.

"But you're sure you like me? I'm just some fucked up poor kid, and I'm... you're sure you like guys, I mean?"

"You're not some fucked up poor kid; you're my boyfriend, you're my Brendon and I'd kind of have to like guys, then, wouldn't I Baby?"

"But how did you know?"

"I just did, I guess. I never really thought about it. That's just how things happened."

"Really... there wasn't anything that just... sorry, I don't even know."

"Bren, I'm not sure. I just kinda knew, you know? I felt it, and I was just like, oh, alright then... it just felt normal."

"I just thought there was something wrong with me."

"Why would there be?"

"Well, not because of how I am, but because I just gradually noticed it, you know? I thought there'd have to be something big or whatever, but I just... it just kind of crept up on me and I just felt it, and I thought I had no reason to."

"And you thought something was wrong with you?"

"Yeah... I don't know."

Ryan kissed the skin of Brendon's chest that was under his cheek. "Nothing's wrong with you, Baby. Everything's perfect."

"You don't think I'm too young?"

"When did you turn fourteen?"

"April."

"I'm only eight months older than you."

Brendon laughed at the absurdity of his concern. "Yeah, sorry."

"Nah. You're just my Baby in every sense, little B."

"Well that's creepy." Brendon tried to protest, but another kiss to the top of Ryan's head wasn't the greatest weapon.

"You sure you like me?"

Brendon breathed Ryan's scent again. He gently lifted his hips and made his little issue even clearer to Ryan as he allowed it to jab him in the side even more. "I'd sure say so."

"Yeah, we... probably should just stay here for a while, huh?"

"That'd be good."

*****

Brendon was sleeping lightly underneath Ryan and it hadn't taken him long to doze off. His hand was still in Ryan's hair and his head had rolled over to the left side to lay against the soft back of the couch. Ryan's eyes were closed, but he couldn't sleep. It was far too hot even with the fan spinning as fast as it could. It was wobbling and making Ryan feel slightly nervous, but he had more pressing issues to worry about.

Ryan flexed his ankles gently and he sighed when they cracked. He tried to stretch his neck but he was afraid to wake Brendon, so he stopped himself just short of pressing his head harder against Brendon's body. Ryan was relaxed. Despite the heat and his nerves, he was tired and relaxed but Brendon was still underneath him. There was only so much consciousness that Ryan could lose. He bit his bottom lip when he put his hand between his legs and squeezed; slowly but firmly making himself feel too much at one time and bringing noises to his throat that he knew he shouldn't let loose. Ryan wasn't even sure what he was trying to accomplish, because he wasn't sure if he was even going for the obvious. He wanted the problem to go away but it felt too good to have Brendon's chest underneath his head.

Brendon stirred shortly after Ryan squirmed slightly. His shoulder pressed into Brendon's stomach and he had turned his head so that his face could be hidden in Brendon's chest, and the movement brought Brendon back into the room. He looked down to Ryan's waist and saw his tense hand on top of his shorts and he looked away for a second, licking his lips and gently rubbing Ryan's neck. A flash of embarrassment swept over Ryan's face but it was gone before he realized it was there. He continued, and he could feel his whole body starting to throb. Every inch of his skin was growing more sensitive by the second.

Brendon ran his thumb along the waistband of Ryan's shorts. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but Ryan's fingers kept hitting his. He slowly moved his hand and let it rest on top of Ryan's, following Ryan's movements and letting him lead the way. He felt like they were becoming the same person. Neither of them spoke.

Ryan tilted his head back and slid his hand out from under Brendon's. He pushed his head upward as much as he could and he was able to reach Brendon's chin for a kiss, but Brendon got the hint and gently touched their lips together. He moved his arm when Ryan arched his back and made a small, vulnerable noise, but he kept his other arm in place while his hand mimicked what Ryan's own hand had been doing. Ryan was biting the inside of his cheek as hard as he could because he didn't know how to respond to someone making him feel what it was that he was feeling.

Brendon did this to himself sometimes. He did it because he wanted to; it was his choice and it felt good. But sometimes Greg did it to him. Those times, he didn't want it. It didn't feel good. He started to feel nauseous. Ryan must have wanted to do this himself; he didn't ask for help, and Brendon didn't see how he could want him touching him. Only Greg wanted Brendon's touch. Ryan looked like he had never felt so good in his life, and Brendon wanted that to be the case. With every bit of his soul, he hoped Ryan wasn't acting, but anything was possible since Brendon himself knew how to pretend to like these things.

Brendon shamefully pulled his hand away. He was as bad as Greg, and Ryan was being hurt.

Both of them breathed heavily for several seconds. Brendon had stopped short of anything happening and Ryan ached. His skin pulled apart from Brendon's when he sat himself up and the breeze felt surprisingly cold on the previously suffocated skin. Ryan reached for his bag and stood up awkwardly with the bag hanging in front of him.

"Uh... I'll, uh..."

"It's the first door on the left, there."

Ryan nodded and limped toward the bathroom. His legs barely knew how to work anymore after laying down for so long and being overcome with so much intensity. The floor was covered with towels and clothes and it seemed as if they had just become part of the flooring. Various fabrics had been trampled down and pressed together and Ryan stepped lightly to the toilet to get everything over with. He contemplated a cold shower but he didn't want to affect any water bills.

Ryan noticed an empty stick of deodorant laying in the trash can when he went to dispose of his tissue. He made the connection and glanced around the counter for another one, but he saw nothing. He didn't leave the bathroom until he had changed into a pair of thin shorts to sleep in.

Brendon was still laying in the same position on the couch, but he sat up as soon as Ryan came down the hallway, bashful and holding his bag in one hand and another object in the other.

"Hey, B..."

"My sister calls me that."

"She also calls you Brenny."

"I'll kill you."

"So... B, then?"

Brendon grinned and sighed. "Ugh, what?"

"Hey, just..." Ryan sat down next to him and shyly handed over his own stick of deodorant. "I... saw you were out..."

Brendon looked away but accepted it, nodding. "Sorry. I used it this morning."

"It's okay. Just keep it."

He nodded again while he took the cap off. "How can you stand being near me?"

"Because I love you. And it's not that bad, I could just tell. I mean... not everyone's gonna be laying on your chest or anything; it's really not bad."

"I didn't want to smell like my sister all day so I just hoped what was left would be enough."

"It's alright, keep that 'cause I have more at home."

Brendon nodded reluctantly and he knew he couldn't turn it down. He leaned back against the soft couch and looked at his hands. "I love you so much."

Ryan felt his throat tighten and his lips formed a smile. "I love you too, you have no idea." He leaned over and kissed Brendon's bare shoulder. "I'd do anything for you, you know."

Brendon looked over and grinned. He wanted to laugh; he knew he needed more than Ryan or anyone could ever be willing to do. "Yeah, you say that."

"I mean it."

Brendon shrugged and scratched his knee, leaning his head sideways when Ryan's hand offered to rub at the muscles of his neck and shoulder. They were getting tight again. "We should probably sleep soon. Liss'll be home and it will just be weird if we're sitting here in our underwear."

"Yeah, true. Just... is there anything you need?"

"Besides you?"

Ryan smiled. "Just... anything. Help, stuff, whatever. Anything."

Brendon knew he couldn't start listing things. He'd never stop talking. "Just you, really."

"Well you have that already. Like... is there anything else you're out of, or anything you want..." Ryan brushed his thumb across a new red lump on the side of Brendon's chin, and the boy flinched at the unexpected pain. Ryan was making his own list of what Brendon needed, and clean laundry and face soap topped it. Maybe even some better toothpaste. He'd find the money to buy anything as long as it might help Brendon feel better about himself.

"Apparently I need clearer skin but I'm not sure you can fix that." Brendon nervously picked at the spot and pain shot through the skin on his jaw.

Ryan stood up and kissed the side of Brendon's head in the process. "I'll see what I can do."

*****

"Brendon, uh, there's..." Ryan's eyes grew and he pointed at a spider that he told himself had to be some sort of small tarantula. "That thing is fucking huge."

"Oh, that." Brendon picked up one of his mom's shoes to rid the wall of the bug with a loud smack. "You might see some of those around here. You're not scared, are you?"

"Well, no, but I didn't really expect to see that huge fucker right there and it kind of gave me a heart attack."

"Yeah, I'm used to them." Brendon adjusted a fan on his mom's dresser to point at Ryan on the bed. "They eat these weird little silvery brown gray whatever bugs that are always crawling around here, but feel free to crush whatever pops out at you."

Ryan nodded nervously and he knew that every little itch or tickle on his body would send him into a flailing fit. He didn't mind bugs; he just had no desire to be surprised by them. "I feel really weird sleeping in here."

"Nah, don't. She has more fans in here than I do anyway. Liss will need her bed when she gets home and there's no way we'd fit on mine."

"We could make it work."

"I'd love to if it wasn't a few degrees past boiling in there. It's just too hot for the body heat, you know?"

"Why don't you just stay in here, then?"

Brendon shrugged and held onto the door. "We'll probably be asleep when my mom gets home and it'll just be weird."

"But it won't be weird when she sees me in her bed?"

"Nah, she knows you're here. You're fine."

"I guess. Try to stay cool or whatever."

"Yeah I just keep that fan pointed at me. I'm convinced it's saved me from heatstroke a few times since you gave it to me."

Ryan smiled and peeled the bed sheet back, unsure of what to do. He hated not being covered up with at least a sheet but it was almost too hot to even wear shorts. After an awkward goodnight, Ryan turned his head toward the window. The air outside was still and the only thing moving the curtains was the oscillating fan that was working as fast as its little blades would allow.

It was lonely where Brendon lived. There was just an overwhelming sense of something that made even Ryan feel like just giving up; he didn't know how Brendon managed so many smiles all the time, especially if any of them were real. It all made Ryan want to curl up and not do anything. The heat, the clutter, the emptiness of knowing that Brendon pretty much lived there alone most of the time. It was livable, apparently, but Ryan couldn't figure out how. He wanted to forget that Brendon ever told them that his previous home was worse.

Pipes and just about everything else seemed to creak whenever they felt like it and Ryan's eyes were wide open. His body was exhausted but he was really in no mood to sleep. He laid motionless and he felt areas of sweat cool ever so slowly with the help of the fans. It didn't take him long to realize that some of the noise he was hearing was rain. Rain hitting the metal roof. Of course, it could have been an endless supply of marbles being dropped onto a cookie sheet, but that didn't make much sense to him and he decided it was probably just the rain.

Ryan heard a thud come from Brendon's room, and soon after, the boy crept in and slowly, quietly shut the bedroom window. Ryan shut his eyes and it did make sense to him; regardless of the temperature, rain couldn't be allowed in. And with it all would come humidity. Ryan wasn't sure how much worse the night could get. Thinking his boyfriend was asleep, Brendon made a quiet exit and pulled the door shut behind him.

Brendon pushed the hanging sheet to the side so he could get to his side of the room. It danced back and forth with the moderately strong wind generated by the box fan. Brendon had it sitting at the foot of the mattress, positioned at a slight angle at the corner so it would hit his body while he laid down. The breeze was warm but it made a wonderful difference. With the windows now shut, it wouldn't get humid inside quite as quickly as it would if they were left open while it was raining, but Brendon knew it would grow to be quite miserable by morning and he expected Ryan to make a quick getaway after waking up. He really couldn't blame him, and if Ryan didn't face the threat of his dad killing him for the wine, Brendon would have considered following him home.

Brendon's finger traced the outline of the circle that Ryan had drawn on the paper hanging on the wall. I love you. He could feel it. When Ryan was against him, he could feel a level of trust coming from the Ryan that he knew he could never even have with himself. Brendon wasn't able to love himself as much as Ryan loved him, and personally knowing how used and dirty he was made him feel painfully guilty for letting Ryan care about him. Ryan deserved so much better.

Ryan loved and trusted him and, when Brendon thought about it, all he himself could do was refuse to let Ryan hold him. All he could do was push him away but jump in to touch him in ways that have torn Brendon himself apart hundreds of times before, and Brendon felt absolutely vile. Never once had he ever thought that Greg was right with what he did, but he thought it was necessary. The money he'd get in turn for taking the abuse and keeping his mouth shut was worth more than the numbers printed all over it; it was Brendon's future. It was his way out, his education, the food he'd eventually have to put on his own table, the table itself, the clothes on his back, and the stable, easy life that he had always wished for. He rarely spent any of his money. He bought his stereo, he bought his portable CD player, and his sister had treated him to a few albums for his birthday. He bought things to keep himself going, but the rest of his money stayed hidden. Nobody knew how much he got or what he had to do to get it.

Brendon didn't like to think about how badly he wanted to be held. It felt good to hug Ryan but it also hurt in a few ways. It hurt to think of the possibility that Ryan was just like him; maybe Ryan didn't want it, but he pretended. It hurt to hold Ryan and feel a sense of rejection when it wasn't returned, but he'd remember that it was his own fault. Then it would just hurt because he could never let himself see what it would really feel like without Greg breathing down his neck; breathing words and commands and making him hurt enough to throw up but be forced to swallow it.

Ryan had let him touch him when they were laying on the couch. He even seemed to like it, and the noises Ryan made had sent Brendon's heart rate through the roof. He remembered the way Ryan's lip looked when his teeth dug into it and how Ryan's fingers strained and flexed and stretched to reach for something that wasn't even there. Brendon knew that if he was actually making Ryan feel that way, then he had done something good for the first time in his life. Brendon's conscious just didn't let him see things that way.

He couldn't believe he sunk to Greg's level. Ryan trusted him; Ryan loved him and he thought--knew he loved Ryan. He couldn't understand how he could have let himself hurt Ryan like that. Brendon never asked for what was done to him and Ryan never asked for Brendon to do what he did. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Ryan's life. He had felt guilty enough about wrapping his arms around Ryan's body. That's one of the most harmful actions; that's when things are said.

Brendon didn't want to hit his head against the wall because he knew it would make to much noise. He had a lot of explaining to do one day when the noise woke his mother up. He repeatedly brought the heel of his hand toward his head and he smashed his head against his hand until the pain was just too strong, and then he kept going, only harder. He didn't see a reason to stop since "stop" was never, ever an option for him, unless he was told to say it. Sometimes Greg wanted Brendon to give him a reason to keep going.

"Please, just stop."

He kept going. Harder, angrier, and with a loud laugh.

"Keep going, keep going."

"That's right; you know you want this."

Brendon always just wanted out.

Brendon didn't stop hitting himself until he was sure that he was crying due to the pain and not because of what he did to Ryan. Sharp pain shot through his hand and wrist and he squeezed it with his other hand while a defeated sob fell from his throat. He couldn't stand himself and he couldn't stay together anymore.

He was turned around in bed with his head down where his feet would normally go and the fan blew air against his wet face. He was curled into a tense ball and doing anything and everything he could to keep himself from screaming and physically trying to rip out his own throat. He didn't want to exist anymore. His situation had developed over a half hour of thinking too much. Thirty minutes of literally pounding it into his own head that he fucked up. He hurt Ryan and now he'd have to live with it.

Ryan was paralyzed with helplessness while he listened to Brendon's muffled sobs coming from the other side of the wall. He wanted to be with him. He wanted to lay down on that tiny mattress, wrap his arms around him, and make the entire world leave him alone. If Brendon couldn't fight battles, Ryan was more than ready to fight for him. Everything was confusing Ryan to no end except for one thing: the fact that he was in love.

Brendon didn't know if Ryan was asleep or awake or ignoring him but he wouldn't have cared either way. He just didn't want to be alone. He coughed when he walked into the room and he had his pillow held against his chest. He didn't speak and he didn't even look at Ryan; he just sat down gently and brought his legs up on the bed so he could curl up with his back facing Ryan. His head didn't go on the pillow; instead, he kept it against his chest, holding it tight in his arms and using it to all but suffocate himself.

Ryan didn't want to just lay there. He couldn't pretend to sleep, and he couldn't ignore what was happening. He slowly turned over to his side and rubbed Brendon's shoulder and upper arm. He could see bruises on his back with what light was present in the room and he kept his eyes on the back of Brendon's head. Brendon neither acknowledged him nor pushed him away; he just held onto his pillow and let himself cry. He felt useless.

It could have been a quick lapse in judgment or Ryan's instincts might have just taken over, but it took him a couple seconds to realize the consequences of wrapping his arms around Brendon's body. For those few seconds he held his boyfriend and felt him against his chest, in his arms and safely in his possession. Brendon would have loved to see it that way, too, but his own instincts had another idea.

Brendon's elbow crashed into Ryan's stomach and sent him backwards; he pushed Brendon away, but it was a response to being hit. He didn't want to push Brendon away at all. Ryan clutched his stomach while Brendon all but fell out of bed with his limbs flailing; words and anger and defensiveness spilling from his mouth in a hurricane of emotion and volume, and he rubbed his arms up and down his body to get the feeling to just go away. He didn't know what he was saying, but Ryan heard every screamed word. He was pretty sure it wasn't Brendon who was threatening him.

"You mother fucker," Brendon's screaming stopped and traded places with a more demonic, throaty whisper. He was finally ready to make sentences. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Don't fucking touch me; you promised you wouldn't and look what you fucking did, Ryan."

Ryan was speechless and he didn't like how Brendon was still trying to shiver away the feeling of being touched. He saw that Brendon was crying and he knew it had to be for different reasons than his own tears. The boy shoved him away even more by gathering the blanket and using it to shove Ryan off the bed completely.

"Why the fuck would you do that to me? I fucking trusted you but you're just like everyone else."

A pillow flew at Ryan's body and he couldn't take it anymore. He broke down while he ran down the hallway and threw himself down on the couch. He laid on his side and curled into the back of the couch, envying any object that was lucky enough to be hiding underneath the cushions.



Ryan knew he fucked up. He did something Brendon had asked him not to do, and he deserved to be corrected. He just never thought he'd come so close to being attacked by someone so gentle. He was sobbing in fear but mostly in sadness. Brendon wasn't like that, and Ryan knew it; something other than his simple attempt at comfort made Brendon react so explosively. He knew he fucked up, but he still couldn't understand completely. You don't pull away from someone you love. Ryan felt sick with the thought that Brendon may have just been caught in his own act; that he might not accept love if he doesn't feel like returning it.

Ryan's chest ached and he didn't know what kind of fear he should be feeling. He eventually heard Brendon creep out into the living room, and he knew it was Brendon this time; the tone of his breathing and the sounds he was making was undeniably very Brendon and it made Ryan hurt even more.

Brendon sat down slowly with his side against the front of the couch and he laid his face on the cushion. The top of his head pressed against Ryan's back and Ryan's pride almost wanted to shove him away, but he could barely imagine it. He felt Brendon's fingers crawl up onto his waist and he uncrossed his own arms just enough to put his hand on top of Brendon's. Having already made the mistake of a lifetime, Ryan wasn't going to open his mouth.

"Baby..."

"Shhhh."

"No, Ryan..."

"Shhhh." Ryan moved his fingers back and forth across the back of Brendon's hand. "What?"

"Help me."

"How?"

More quiet, devastated sobs overflowed from Brendon's throat. It could only hold so much. "I don't even know."

Ryan held his breath and he turned around to lay on his other side and face Brendon. The boy looked at him for a second, but his eyes filled up again and he looked away, ashamed. "Brendon..."

"I don't know."

Ryan accepted Brendon's hand again and he leaned forward to put his face against the top of his head. "I'm sorry."

"No."

"Brendon, I couldn't help it. I shouldn't have touched you like that and I'm sorry."

Brendon shook his head. "I need to walk."

"Where?"

"Outside; no more rain." Brendon pushed himself up with enough straining and grunting to make it sound like there wasn't a single muscle in his body.

Ryan watched the boy limp toward the kitchen. "It's really hot, you know."

"I don't care."

Ryan nodded. "Should I wait here?"

"I want you with me."

"Okay, are... you sure?"

Brendon nodded and took a drink of the soda that he produced from the refrigerator. "I won't go out there alone."

"Yeah... yeah," Ryan slipped his feet into his sandals that were by the door. "It might feel good to move around."

"I'll bring this." Brendon lifted the two liter bottle of Cherry Coke and twisted the cap back on before opening the door. Ryan was still hesitant; he dodged Brendon's movements and stayed out of his way. He wasn't afraid of Brendon hurting him; he was afraid that he'd come into contact with Brendon's body, and it would end up being another wrong way to touch him.

Ryan hadn't even made it down the hollow cement steps before the humidity hit him and made him choke. His slight coughing prompted Brendon to thrust the bottle of soda into his hands without looking, and Ryan smiled. He wasn't sure why. He watched Brendon stomp away and give a small backward glance before slowing a bit, so Ryan sped up without speaking. Again, he wasn't going to speak unless spoken to. It was Brendon's time.

Brendon held out his hand and dusted water off of leaves while they walked along the edge of the field. Ryan was agitated by the humidity and the tension and the darkness and he scratched his chest nervously. He never really walked around outside of his house without a shirt unless he was mowing the lawn, but it was dark enough outside that not very many people would see his scrawny body. A set of headlights were approaching from the distance and Ryan moved off of the pavement and onto the gravel with Brendon. He didn't like the way it crunched and felt under his feet, but at that moment, he didn't like how a lot of other things felt, either. He inhaled, but the humidity made it almost futile.

"I sit outside at night sometimes."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah."

"I always wanna walk but it's too fucking freaky."

Ryan tried to laugh a little. "So you decide to subject me to it?"

"Well, I... I'm safe with you out here."

Ryan gripped the bottle and the sides caved in a little when he took a gulp. "Brendon?"

"Yeah."

"If that's the case, then why are you afraid of me?"

A loud exhale was Brendon's only response. Since Ryan was a part of the world and life and everything around him, Brendon had no choice but to be a little afraid. Not of Ryan, but of everything.

The outdoors was a sauna from the summer rain and the clouds covered the moon, making it too dark except for the fading porch lights that the two of them grew farther and farther from. Ryan watched their shadows gradually change with each slow step and when he tried to breathe, he felt like he was drowning. His shadow seemed to be more alive than he was; all it needed was a little light and a surface. It didn't need to worry about breathing air and being accepted.

Ryan couldn't stand letting the gravel under their feet do the talking. He scratched his head and dragged his hand down the side of his face. "Fuck, can I just... can I hold your hand, or something?"

Brendon casually wrapped his hand around Ryan's. "Why'd you ask?"

"I don't know, I... I feel like I need to ask you shit, okay? I mean, fuck, I don't know what you want. I don't even know what I want other than you, but since I don't know if you even want that, I just don't fucking know."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't like feeling like I have to ask you if I can touch you at all."

"I'm... sorry, you don't."

"Yes I do. Brendon, I've never been with anyone before, okay? No girls or guys or anything and okay, I know I don't know much, but I know this isn't right, okay?"

Brendon nodded and looked at the ground. He knew, and he squeezed Ryan's hand.

"I don't like having a boyfriend who I can't hug, okay? I mean, if you would have said you just wanted to wait for everything until we've been together for a while, whatever... but shit, after all the stuff you seem to have wanted to do already, and I still can't fucking hug you, not even when you sound like you're dying?"

Brendon was looking at the ground and Ryan was pretty sure he was pouting slightly. "Maybe I'm afraid you'll save me if you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe I don't deserve to feel better."

"Brendon, if that wasn't true, why would I cry every time I see you doing it? Fuck, I feel like I'm two years old; I never do this and it's just kind of embarrassing and ridiculous."

"Maybe you're just pissed at yourself for settling for me."

"Don't say that to me."

"Why?"

"I may suck at showing how much I love you, but when you won't let me use the one method I'm sure of, how can you hold that against me?"

"I know you love me."

"Bren, this is fucked up, okay?"

Brendon nodded.

"This is so fucked up."

"You have no idea."

"Yes I do; I can't even fucking touch you without feeling like I'm hurting you."

"You have no idea, and I feel the same way."

"Why would you be hurting me?"

"Ryan. If someone did something to you that hurt you, would you do that same thing to someone else who you love?"

"What?"

"Just answer me."

"No, I doubt it."

"Ryan, I don't want to hurt you, either. I don't want you to hug me but I don't want to hug you because I just don't know... I don't know how it makes you feel, okay?"

"It makes me feel amazing, Bren."

"Well I've said that before and didn't mean it."

"To who?"

"That doesn't matter. Fact is that I can't take that chance, Baby. The last thing I want to do is hurt you and it seems like I do it just by trying not to. I'm fucked any way you look at it."

"Baby?"

"Mmm."

"Will you ever tell me who hurt you?"

"Everything, Ry. Just let it go."

"It's still going on, isn't it?"

"Ryan," Brendon stopped and put his hand on the side of Ryan's head. He looked at his sad, tired face for a moment before leaning in for a small kiss. "I don't want you to leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere. I just want to know what's going on."

Brendon shook his head and touched Ryan's collarbone. "None of it matters if you just stay with me, okay?"

"I don't want you to worry about that; I'm not going to leave you."

Brendon needed to hear that. Out of everything he had heard before, he had never heard someone tell him that they'd never leave him. It was always quite the opposite, followed up with "and they won't care what happens to you." He wiped his face and he had no reason to not believe Ryan. There weren't many other statements that Greg hadn't already ruined.

Ryan passed the soda to Brendon because he figured he could use a drink. He was reminded of the wine and how his dad may or may not hate him and Brendon forever, now, and his nervousness started to come back. He wanted to keep that promise to Brendon, but there would be nothing he'd be able to do if his dad ended up saying Brendon was off limits. Ryan had to hold on to the fact that his dad knew how happy he was with Brendon.

They barely talked on the way back. They were too sticky and hot and they needed to breathe instead. Ryan knew he had to worry. Brendon was more fragile and volatile than he ever imagined, but he also knew more than anything that Brendon had to be an incredibly strong person if he were to have the most beautiful smile Ryan had ever seen.

"Can I sleep in there with you when we get back?"

Ryan nodded. "You don't need to ask about that."

"Well, you asked me about this." Brendon lifted their hands and kissed Ryan's thumb. "I guess we're asking now."

"Oh." Ryan felt something stab him in the throat. "I... yeah."

Ryan wanted to brush his teeth before going to bed. He splashed some cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror and he knew that neither of them were old enough for any of this. He kicked some clothes out of his way but he bent over, lifting one of Brendon's shirts and breathing against it no matter how long it had been unwashed. It smelled just like him and it made Ryan feel nostalgic for something that he couldn't pinpoint; possibly his childhood. Things were simple then. Brendon made him smile over simple things.

Ryan left the bathroom once he had haphazardly folded the dirty laundry. It stayed stacked up along the wall, thus creating a bare floor to walk on once again. Brendon was laying awake in bed and he was sprawled out on his stomach with his face turned toward where Ryan laid down. "Can..." Ryan carefully put his hand on top of Brendon's, but their bodies were several inches apart. "Is this okay?"

"Only if you hold it all night."

Ryan smiled involuntarily and he felt a quick wave of relaxation hit him. He moved his head so he could leave Brendon's arm in place and he put his lips against Brendon's hand. He had no intention of moving and taking his mouth and nose away from Brendon's skin.

Brendon felt okay like this and all he wanted was for Ryan to know. Not just that he felt okay being so close to someone, but he wanted Ryan to know everything.

*****

Sometime between three and five, Brendon had remembered that he needed to put his nightshirt back on. Ryan's eyes opened to a sleepy, clothed Brendon lifting himself up to a sitting position in order to hug his sister. Ryan's hand was warm and he could feel that it had been covered by Brendon's just seconds before, just as it was when he fell asleep, and he watched Alyssa hold her little brother against her chest. Even half asleep, Ryan was capable of jealousy.

"You guys have fun?"

Brendon nodded and laid against his sister, causing her to chuckle and support his weight a little more.

"Stayed up late, huh?"

"I guess."

"I was gonna let you sleep because you guys were adorable just laying here together, but I wanted to say hi to ya."

"S'ok."

She kissed her brother's forehead and laid his small body back down on the bed. "Just go back to sleep, little B. Greg gave me a twenty for you for ‘being a good kid’ apparently, so I'll lay it on your bed."

Brendon nodded and turned over to face Ryan. Their eyes met and their hands joined again, and Alyssa laughed quietly.

"Hey there Ry. You don't seem very awake."

Ryan shook his head and nuzzled up against Brendon's arm.

"You guys sleep well; love you."

Ryan liked her. He didn't know why, but he liked Brendon's sister. She was pretty and her voice was nice and she was so careful with his Brendon. Brendon hugged her like he hugged his mother, and Ryan had already grown quite fond of Grace. The women in Brendon's life clearly loved him more than anything, but Ryan wasn't sure if they had a reason or if it was just honest. If they knew something was wrong, there was a chance that the kindness was all an act; that they treated him so sweetly because they knew he needed it. Ryan hated acts of pity. Or what if they hurt him? Brendon didn't seem afraid of them, and Ryan didn't want to think about that, just like he didn't want to think about Brendon's family being aware of a problem and not helping him fix it. He was only fourteen; he needed more than moral support. He was still a kid who needed guidance. Given his own genuinely good feelings toward Brendon's family, Ryan was just going to settle on the fact that they were probably innocently clueless people who shared his adoration for Brendon, albeit in a different way. It was impossible to not love Brendon.

Ryan woke up alone with some sun creeping in through the blinds and his limbs were sprawled out as if he were making a snow angel. The thought of cold snow made him whine quietly while he peeled himself off of the bed. The door was shut and it creaked when he pulled it open. He could smell grilled cheese and he could hear cartoons and he was almost too nervous to leave the room. He was usually shy in the morning, right after waking up, and he was even a little afraid of greeting Brendon.

Brendon was cross-legged on the floor with a plate in his lap. He was in front of the television with part of a sandwich in his mouth and he smiled brightly when Ryan stumbled into the room.

"Hey, good morning... there's food!"

Ryan nodded and realized he needed a shirt. Brendon's mom was in the kitchen, but Alyssa was nowhere to be seen. "You were... I woke up and you weren't there."

"That makes sense seeing as I'm out here." Brendon grinned and turned his head. "Mom, can Ry have a sandwich?"

"Already got it going, Honey."

He turned back around and motioned for Ryan to sit down. "What's wrong?"

"Uh... my shirt, I..."

"Ah, don't worry about it. You're fine if you got pants." Brendon tugged on the leg of Ryan's shorts to get him to sit down, and he continued quietly. "Not that I'd really complain if you didn't, but that can wait 'til we're alone." He casually took another bite of his sandwich in order to avoid Ryan's comical gasp.

"You are so... do you kiss your mother with that mouth, young man?"

Brendon laughed and sat his plate down. "No but I kiss you with it."

"Fuck, you are so stupid and perfect and I love you, you little jerk."

Brendon beamed sarcastically and put his hand on Ryan's bony back for a moment. "But really, thanks for putting up with me last night."

"I wasn't putting up with you, I was just with you and I liked that."

Brendon smiled and looked away. "I'm not really like that but I don't know..." Brendon glanced back to make sure his mom wasn't listening in. "It's like you do all that to me."

"Do what? Like, make you seem like you're dying?"

"No, no... it's like you bring stuff out of me that needs to get out, and I've never done all that before. I mean, I have, but not so much. And I guess that made it worse, you know... just knowing that I actually needed it all along, and..." Brendon nervously wiped his mouth and started playing with his ear. "I don't know, I guess I surprised myself with how fucked up I am, maybe?"

"Nah, you're not fucked up, I just think you... I don't know, you probably have stuff going on, and..." Ryan looked up when he heard Grace approaching.

"Here ya go, Sweetie. If you want any more, just let me know."

"Yeah, thank you... thank you so much..." The sandwich was crowded with potato chips and Ryan's stomach started to cry out. He didn't realize he was so hungry.

"So, you were saying..."

"Yeah, I... I don't know. You're not fucked up... I just wish you smiled more, but that's not your fault. Whatever's going on, you still have me, you know."

Brendon tried to smile but it came out as a small grimace of insecurity. "You say that."

"Why would I lie about it?"

"You probably wouldn't, but I can't blame you if you ever change your mind."

"Hey, stop that." Ryan sat his plate down and turned to face Brendon. "I like you to much to change my mind, okay? Now smile for me."

Brendon defiantly sucked his lips into his mouth and stuck his head forward to shake it at Ryan.

"You're a brat. But are you a ticklish brat?"

"You wouldn't."

"Oh but I would."

"Not a chance in—"

Brendon was cut off by Ryan leaning forward and jamming his moving fingers under his arm and neck. Brendon's face was distorted by a loud smile and his entire body tensed up in an attempt to resist the tickles, but it was useless. His legs flailed and he tipped over, but Ryan just followed, focusing on Brendon's neck and under his chin.

Grace responded to her son's cries for her by simply helping him up and hugging him from behind. She laughed and looked at Ryan. "Here, he's all yours. Go for the stomach!"

"Sweet, teamwork!" Ryan was aware of the damage on Brendon's stomach so he didn't unleash an all out tickle assault, but what he did was enough to make Brendon continue to explode with laughter and eventually wiggle free from his mother's gentle grasp.

Brendon threw himself down on the couch. "I give up! I hate you both and I give up!"

"I see your feet." Ryan quickly ran his fingers along the bottom of Brendon's foot, but he jerked them away and tucked them into the couch, still laughing and gasping for breath. "Aw, you're no fun."

"Ryan Ross you are an asshole and I hate you." He sat up cautiously and brushed his hair off of his forehead in an attempt to recover. "And Mom I hate you too but I won't call you any names."

Grace laughed and offered Ryan a high five. "I like this one, Brenny. I've always needed a partner in crime."

"Yeah well I liked him too until he had to go and do that." Brendon pointed toward the abandoned plate of food on the floor. "Eat. And no more tickles."

"You'll have to stop smiling for me to even think about believing you didn't love it."

"Hate you."

Ryan sat down on the couch with his plate and he leaned over to whisper. "Brenny."

"Okay the only reason they get away with calling me that is because they're girls and I can't hit them. You have nothing to save you, though!"

"You wouldn't hit me." Ryan shoved the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "Brenny."

Brendon leaned back and stuck his bottom lip out as far as he could.

"Besides, that's spousal abuse. You can't hit me."

"After what you did to me, I should break up with you."

"Yeah. Like you'll do that." Ryan smiled and leaned sideways so their shoulders touched. "Love yoooou."

"I guess I love you too. Maybe."

"What are you watching, here?"

Brendon looked at the television. "A tape."

"Tape of what?"

Brendon laughed. "Well what do you think?"

"Recorded cartoons?"

Brendon nodded and turned to sit sideways with his back facing Ryan, and he leaned over to rest against the back of the couch. "Can't help it if I like them"

"Nah, it's okay. I think it's cute." Ryan didn't want to admit to liking cartoons at his age. He turned sideways as well and put his mouth closer to Brendon's ear. "Uh, does your mom know, or is she okay with... whatever..."

Brendon shrugged. "Liss probably told her, but it's fine regardless. We should be okay."

Ryan nodded and moved his head back. His hands stayed down and he gently slid them under Brendon's shirt to run his fingers along his lower back. Brendon didn't react, which Ryan assumed was a good thing, and he smiled while the boy laughed at the television. Brendon seemed calm and careless for the time being. Ryan let himself enjoy every bit of it, and every time Brendon laughed, Ryan saw more worth in everything.

*****

part 6