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

part 2

The bus pulled away while Ryan walked alongside Brendon with a supportive hand gripping the boy's shoulder. It was the third best option when he couldn't hold his hand, and putting his arm around Brendon's shoulders could result in another meltdown.

Brendon watched the solid cement pass under his feet as they walked and his eyes drifted to the manicured grass that lined both sides of the walkway all the way down the street. Everything was so clean and pretty and even though he didn't know which house was Ryan's, it didn't really matter. The fact that he was with Ryan was what mattered, and besides, all the houses looked too similar. They were all modest tri-levels with mature trees and flat driveways and Brendon didn't react much when Ryan began leading him through a lawn. He simply looked up at the boy and was briefly overcome by too much happiness when he saw Ryan's glowing face.

"When does your dad get home?"

"About four thirty usually, but I think he'll be a little later than that since he's picking up the Chinese." Ryan fumbled with his keys for a moment before Brendon was hit by a rush of cool air from the open door. "God, I'm so glad you like Chinese food. Me and my dad live off of it half the time."

"How could I not? I don't get it often since it costs too much, but I love it."

"Well I told him we might be asleep when he gets home since you're usually tired, so he'll wake us up if that's the case."

"Alright." Brendon sat his bag down next to Ryan's on the couch. "Should we stay out here, or can we go..."

Ryan laughed and took Brendon's hand. "My room, totally. Unless you're fundamentally opposed to my bed or something."

"Hey, if you're there, I'm there. And uh, your house is really nice."

"You think so?"

"Uh, yeah. Very."

"I always thought it was pretty normal. What's yours like?" Ryan laid down on his bed and rolled over to the far side, leaving Brendon staring at the enormous mattress. "If you won't tell me where it is, you can at least tell me what it's like."

Brendon kicked his shoes off and sat down. "It's... tiny and shitty, that's all. And why is your bed bigger than my living room? Jesus..."

Ryan reached over and slid his thumb back and forth across the exposed skin of Brendon's lower back. "When I was about eight or so I told my dad I wanted a really big bed. I came home from school to this king sized mattress taking up ninety percent of the floor, and it was basically a trampoline for a couple years until my head went to war with the dresser."

Brendon looked around. Floor space was admittedly scarce, but there was enough of room to walk around with a dresser and a desk. Brendon laughed quietly and swung his legs up to the bed so he could lay on his back. "I have a little mattress on the floor of my bedroom. I could saw your bed in half and it still wouldn't fit."

"Just on the floor?"

"Yeah. My sister has a bed since she has to put clothes and stuff under it. We share the room and she gave me the closet."

"Seriously?"

"Nah, I'm lying. I live in a mansion."

"Uh, sorry... I just didn't know that. I'm sorry."

Brendon shrugged and rolled over a couple times, landing right up against Ryan. "I said my place was shitty."

"Well, you know," Ryan gathered his blanket and started putting it over Brendon. "You know there's always a place here for you, right? Still have to share a room, but I'll be here."

Brendon smiled and nuzzled his head against Ryan's shoulder. He exhaled loudly through his nose and wrapped his arms around himself.

"So... the hug thing... does that mean I just can't, uh... do..."

"Here, just..." Brendon's voice trailed off and he put his forearm across Ryan's stomach. "Just let me."

Ryan sighed quietly and settled on taking Brendon's hand. "This is really good."

"Yeah."

"So what's been up with you today? You've seemed out of it."

"I guess. I just don't wanna leave."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean do you have room for another dude in this house?"

Ryan laughed. "Be careful; I'll take you too seriously and then I won't let you leave."

Brendon bent his knees and snuggled closer to Ryan. "Please don't let me."

"What's goin' on?" Ryan boldly started to run his fingertips along Brendon's arm, and Brendon didn't seem to mind; he just pulled himself closer and Ryan had to use every ounce of willpower he could find to keep himself from pulling Brendon closer to him. He kept his fingers moving on Brendon's arm and his other arm folded under his own head.

"I just like it here already."

"That's good." Ryan could feel Brendon's fingers gently digging into his side, but he stayed respectfully quiet about it. "Uh, my dad brought ice cream home on Monday, like I told you he said he would. Wanna know how ridiculous he is?"

Brendon nodded and let go of himself, moving the back of his hand to Ryan's hip and sliding his fingers through a belt loop.

"Well, he sent an email to everyone at work to tell them his son just got his first boyfriend and he wanted to know what ice cream to get." Brendon just nodded again, but Ryan kept going with it. "It was a unanimous Superman, apparently, because 'it's insanely sweet and it's a fucking rainbow, George!' and I pretty much died when he told me."

Brendon couldn't hold back a small laugh. "I need to see where your dad works."

"Nah, you'd hear too many things that are inappropriate for anyone under thirty." Ryan placed another kiss on top of Brendon's head and he breathed deeply.

"I'm not kidding when I say I don't want you to let me leave."

"Why, Sweetie? I mean, I'm all for you staying right here, but... I know something's wrong, Bren. Tell me."

Brendon shrugged. "You're my first, too. I never thought anything like this could feel good."

"Why's that?"

"I guess I don't know. I just don't want this to stop."

Ryan could feel the back of Brendon's thumb moving along the skin on his hip and brought his arm across his body to touch the side of Brendon's head. He still didn't feel ready to touch the boy's face without any reason such as sunblock, so he settled on moving his thumb around above Brendon's ear. He could tell Brendon was upset, but he didn't want to ask too many questions. He just let the boy cling to him as if his next breath depended on Ryan's existence.

George didn't have the heart to wake the boys when he got home with dinner. His protective son had Brendon covered in a blanket and curled up beside him and instead of ruining the moment of calmness, he sat the food on Ryan's bedside table instead. He figured the smell of the food could wake them up.

*****

Even after over a year of working, Brendon could count on both hands the number of times Greg wanted him in on a school night. He didn't even work many weeknights during breaks, but sometimes the man just craved him and Brendon was completely powerless.

"There's things out back to bring in. Delivery came in today; he'll be outside most of the night, Lissy."

Alyssa nodded and stroked her brother's hair once before she headed to the dressing room. Brendon wanted to follow her; not for the girls, but for say safety and love she could offer him.

Greg reached his arm around Brendon's back and rested his hand on his hip while he guided him down a hall and out a back door. "Flats of booze need to be brought in. That won't take long, though."

Brendon's eyes glazed over and he concentrated on breathing slowly and steadily while the man pressed him against the brick wall, torso against torso. He had to separate himself from the situation if he wanted to make it through.

"We have so much time tonight, Boy. Couldn't wait until the weekend."

"Me either." Brendon knew to respond. He knew how to respond at different times to avoid being hit out of anger, but if Greg wanted to hit him just to see him cry, there was no stopping that.

"Shit, Brendon." Greg's lips closed in on Brendon's neck but he was careful not to suck. There could be no unhidden marks. "You need... to grow for me." He moved up to Brendon's lips. "Get taller, older..."

The tears started to come. Silently, but Greg liked it anyway. They leaked from Brendon's eyes and he pushed every thought of Ryan out of his mind. He already couldn't hug his boyfriend; he didn't want to associate Ryan with any other action.

"Because right now, I need to be in you. But right now I'd just rip your little self apart." His hands moved down to Brendon's stomach to shove him violently into the wall that he was already up against, and Brendon whimpered quietly. Greg liked to press his fingers into Brendon's skin as if he were trying to rip through the soft, pale tissue. "Push."

"What... do you mean?"

"Push against me you little fucker, you know what I want you to do!"

Brendon clenched his teeth and pushed his body outward with his arms while Greg's fingers stayed in place, trying to stab through his stomach with a force that the man somehow found erotic. An audible yelp of pain escaped Brendon's mouth and it was silenced by the sting of Greg's hand against his lips. He kept his hand in place and took Brendon's ear inside his mouth before whispering to him.

"Quiet. If you give away our secret we can't have fun anymore. You won't get money and guess where you'll be forever, boy?"

Brendon nodded obediently; silently, although tears were pouring from his eyes. He felt like he was dying and no sliver of his body cared if it survived the night or not.

"It's not like you'll get any other chances. You're too pretty and some asshole will just take you, tear you to pieces and forget about you. I couldn't do that to ya." Greg pulled his hand out of his own pants and stepped away. "We have plenty of time. Get this shit inside, and fast. I'll be watching the girls for about ten, making sure the guys out there are behaving."

Brendon nodded. He'd have about three minutes to empty his emotions before carrying anything in. When Greg disappeared inside, Brendon dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach and crying from his throat. He stayed as quiet as he could but there's only so much control a person can have when he's already partially convinced that he's dead.

His knees dug into the pavement and he leaned forward with his forehead against the ground as well. He could make it to Ryan's house. He could run because his life depended on it, and he knew Ryan would take him. But what if he didn't? Brendon's head swirled with too many things and he realized that he might just be too ruined for Ryan to even touch him again, let alone want to love him. Brendon needed his music and he needed his Ryan and he was afraid that neither would want anything to do with him.

Brendon stuck his head inside a dumpster and emptied his stomach before he blocked everything out and started lifting boxes. He opened a box of wine to put the bottles away and something crossed his mind that he'd never thought of before: if Greg wanted to cause him pain, the least he could do was offer something to numb it for a while. He didn't want to think what would happen to him if he was found shoving bottles into his bag, so he moved as quickly as he could before continuing. Greg emerged and began normally bringing in boxes to help Brendon along, and the boy appreciated the help although he was well aware of Greg's desire to speed things up.

Aside from his shirt, Greg never took him out of his clothes. He drew the line there and Brendon really just wondered why he'd even bother having boundaries at that point, but like the man always said, Brendon didn't want to be ripped apart. His soul had already experienced that many times over. Before the night was over, Brendon found his stomach covered with kisses that he told himself were just dirty lips on skin. Ryan gave him kisses; he kissed Brendon on his head and it made Brendon feel alive and warm. But each time these lips touched him, they pulled away with a little more of his life frozen to the edges.

Greg needed to see him cry harder one last time. He forced his fist into Brendon's lower back and he didn't get angry when the boy screamed; he knew he caused just enough pain to warrant it. He spun Brendon around and watched the anguish pour from his eyes and nose and mouth and he gripped Brendon's hair momentarily. He let go and headed to the tree line to relieve his tension, and Brendon was left with fifteen minutes to gather himself before his sister would be done and ready to leave. It was up to Brendon to fish his three hundred dollar bills out of Greg's pocket, but that small act didn't faze him anymore. He told himself that three hundred dollars made everything worth it, maybe except for needing to leave Ryan's house. Brendon would have given any amount of money to keep Ryan in his arms.

*****

Brendon hung on Ryan's promise because it really was all he had to hang on to. The clock said it was after three a.m. and Brendon couldn't help it; he needed Ryan's voice more than he needed sleep. He didn't even bother trying to keep himself calm because he knew it wouldn't work, and he curled up on his bed with the phone as soon as his sister stepped into the shower.

"Baby?"

"Brendon?" Ryan closed his eyes and kept them closed when he saw the time on the clock. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Brendon's heart seemed to rupture and he couldn't hold anything in. He could hear Ryan's quiet shushing and his sweet voice in his ear when he tried his best at singing to him, and Brendon squeezed the phone because Ryan's hand wasn't close enough. Ryan had no words to say and he wasn't sure that words would even work and he just did what he thought he could, which was simply existing on the phone and having his heart ripped out at the sound of his boyfriend giving up on everything.

Brendon seemed to calm down to breathe, and Ryan wanted to step in. "Baby, my Baby... I'm scared, Bren."

"Me too." Brendon inhaled through his mouth to take a large gulp of air. "I miss you so much."

"Sweetie what's wrong? It's so late... did you have a bad dream or something, or... God, Bren, what happened?"

"Everything's... it's all one fucking bad dream, Ryan."

"What happened?"

"Say something good."

"What, Baby?"

"Say something pretty, just... something nice..."

Ryan was tired. "Brendon, I don't know what you mean." He wanted to think everything was a dream at this point, but the pain in Brendon's voice was too real. He knew that even if it was a dream, it was bad enough that it would be a sign that something was wrong with Brendon.

"Keep me going because I can't fucking do it anymore."

Ryan's voice showed that his confusion and overwhelming concern was causing his throat to tighten. "I love you, Brendon. I love you. I love you."

Brendon breathed slowly and focused on the air through his throat. Ryan's voice flooded his ear and started to wash some things away, and he just listened to the boy repeat those three words over and over. Nights like this had happened in the past where Brendon was left essentially stripped of his human qualities and he'd lay in his bed, hardly crying and barely conscious. He never had any choice other than to block it out and move on. This time he felt guilty. This time, he knew he shared a growing mutual trust with someone, and this kept him grounded in reality. It kept him from letting himself forget what had happened, what had been happening, and what was going to happen for a long time. Ryan could give him something to live for, but he'd also unknowingly keep Brendon from dissociating enough to keep the situation from crushing him.

Brendon fell asleep to his favorite band and a song about brilliant smiles and barely scraping by. His family's cordless phone remained in his hand because he didn't feel like letting it go once the call ended. He felt like he could be okay if he could just close his eyes for the few remaining hours until he'd be sitting next to Ryan.

*****

"I couldn't go back to sleep last night." Ryan pushed his bag under the seat before he sat down slightly sideways to face Brendon. He gently laid his hand on Brendon's lower back and he leaned in close to talk quietly, but the boy didn't move. He was leaning forward with the top of his head pressed against the seat in front of him and his music was loud enough for Ryan to identify the usual song, so he moved it away enough to have access to Brendon's ear. "I said I couldn't get back to sleep last night, Baby. I'm so scared for you and I need you to tell me what's going on; this is scary, Bren."

Brendon didn't react to the change in music volume or to Ryan's voice. In fact, he didn't move at all until Ryan decided to try to cradle the boy under one arm. He ended up pressed against the wall and Ryan could see that his previously closed eyes were now terrified and squeezed shut.

"Okay, okay." Ryan gently tugged on Brendon's shoulder to sit him back up and show him there was no threat. "I don't know what I can do for you. I'm sorry. I don't know." Ryan pressed his hand against his face and tried to stop himself from getting too upset to talk. "I want to, Baby."

Ryan could hear Brendon's crying even though it was very faint under the sounds of a packed bus. Brendon wasn't sobbing and it was more like a series of gasps from his throat, but it was enough to break Ryan's heart. He distanced himself from Brendon but he slid his hand underneath the bottom of Brendon's shirt in order to rub his skin and let him know he wasn't about to give up. Brendon didn't move again until Ryan could see the school, and then he sat up.

"Ryan?"

Ryan kept his hand under Brendon's shirt even after the boy was leaning back, but all of his attention shot to the boy's face and how his innocent hands were desperately trying to rub life back into it. "Yeah I'm here, Bren."

"How fast did you have to grow up?"

Ryan was struck by awkward question and he wasn't sure how to answer. "Well, I... I just turned fifteen, Brendon. I can't really say that I think I've grown up all that much."

"Well." Brendon leaned forward and glanced back, which was Ryan's signal to move his hand, and Brendon wrapped his own around it. "Try not to, then. It really sucks."

"Baby, I don't—"

"And thanks for talking to me last night, uh... this morning. I'm sorry it kept you up, though. Here..." Brendon leaned forward and motioned for Ryan to do the same, and their faces were lowered and even.

Ryan was able to talk softly. "No, it's... fine, I'm just so—"

Brendon's sad lips touched Ryan's for a brief moment before Brendon pulled away to keep it a secret. The feeling lingered and as he had hoped, it was warm and real and he wanted more. "There, I love you."

"Baby, I love you too... you look..." Ryan sat up and looked at Brendon's face, putting a finger under the boy's soft chin. "Sweetie, you're gorgeous but you don't look like you're in a good place right now."

"Can't say that I am." Brendon took Ryan's hand away from his chin and held on to it.

"Will you talk to me?"

Brendon shrugged and looked at the pavement as the bus slowed through the parking lot.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"About an hour. I really... I guess I don't wanna talk; I love you. I'm just so fucking tired."

"But what is wrong, Brendon?"

"It's nothing; I just worked last night and I don't usually go in during the week. It pissed me off and I was out all night and I'm fucking exhausted." Brendon was gently moving Ryan's hand around in his own and he studied the apparent difference in the length of their fingers. Ryan's were delicate and long, and his were short as if they were cowering; afraid to really reach out and act in any situation. "I guess if you haven't noticed, I'm a huge fucking baby when I'm tired."

The opening of the bus door made Ryan not only admit temporary defeat, but it also forced him to sever the connection between himself and the person he loved. Brendon knew he was loved and it made everything harder. He had never felt so much guilt in his life because everything Ryan did was so honest; he was sarcastic and funny and happy when he wanted to be, and he was loving and caring when he wanted to be. If he was sad, he was sad. Brendon, though, wasn't only happy and fine when he wanted to be. He had no choice in the matter either way, and forcing jokes and smiles no matter what had never been a problem until he met his match. Ryan's genuine personality and his love were turning out to feel a little too good on Brendon's heart. They weren't letting Brendon force himself to stand up straight no matter what, as he had become so used to doing for over a year, and he was afraid Ryan would disappear once he laid eyes on the ugliness that his good qualities were starting to drag to the surface.

He had 1,307 days to try to keep up the act.

*****

Ryan was sitting with his back against his locker when Spencer approached him. Spencer figured his worst fears were about to be confirmed when he saw the solemn contemplation on his friend's face. "Hey uh, Rydude... did you guys get in a fight or something?"

Ryan shook his head and inhaled while he climbed to his feet. "No, at least I don't think we did. Please tell me you talked to him?"

"About what? I mean, we didn't talk... he just seemed really off and he asked me to give this to you." Spencer wrapped his arms around his friend's midsection and squeezed. "He said he really wanted you to have it. I don't know, he seemed upset and I thought that might be a bribe for you to forgive him or whatever."

Ryan laughed quietly. "He told you to hug me?"

"Yeah. Even I will admit it was kinda cute. Or uh, well... yeah whatever we'll call it that. But he was really upset and he forced this ridiculous little smirk and I kinda felt bad for him. I thought the next sentence out of his mouth was going to be him begging me to tell you to stay with him or whatever."

Ryan shook his head again. "Something's really not right with him."

"How so?"

"The hug thing, and he called me at like 3 this morning, just fucking hysterical. He said he wanted me to say something nice to him, that everything's a bad dream... fuck, I know something's going on and he won't tell me."

"Well you sat with him this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes and I tried to talk to him, but he really wouldn't do it. I just ended up touching him and he ended up kissing me but he was so upset and I couldn't get anything out of him."

"Calm down, just... I'll pretend I don't know any of this. I don't wanna get involved or whatever but you know I'm here for ya... I'll just treat him how I normally would and maybe something will come of it?"

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't be mad if I call you tonight and let some of this shit out. I'm just worried."

"I know how you are. I'm sure he's fine though, okay? Just go watch him get naked before gym or whatever. You two just enjoy that while I try to get that image out of my head, no offense."

Ryan kindly displayed a middle finger to Spencer and he headed to class hoping to take his friends advice, although he quickly found out it wasn't meant to become a reality. He changed his clothes and on his way out of the locker room he walked past Brendon and the teacher. He wasn't sure if he really believed that Brendon had hurt his back and couldn't do anything, but he heard the boy agree to bring a note from home if he needed to miss any more days. Despite staring at Brendon for a couple minutes, Ryan was never acknowledged, and he watched Brendon climb halfway up the bleachers and lay down on his stomach as if his back might have actually been hurting.

Kickball wasn't one of his favorite pastimes and in fact, the only sport Ryan ever had a remote interest in was skateboarding, but the only thing he and Spencer ever learned in regards to that was how to fall. A lot. Ryan hung out in the back of the line so he'd be the last one up to kick and he spent a couple minutes watching Brendon lay still. Only he wasn't sure if the boy was still or not; he hoped it was just his eyes involuntarily searching for change in an unchanging scene, but he couldn't help but to think Brendon was shaking. His body looked even smaller than usual due to the distance and Ryan couldn't tolerate the tingling nervousness that was making him feel sick to his stomach. He waited for his turn only to realize that he needed to sit with Brendon, and when his body hit the floor, he hoped that his planned, mid-run fall was convincing enough. He rolled over and pushed himself up to his feet and limped a few steps to get himself out of the way.

"You alright?"

Ryan looked toward the teacher and nodded. "Yeah, just... think I hurt my foot."

"Sit?"

Ryan nodded and pretended to need to rub his ankle, and the teacher nodded back toward the bleachers. He never thought all of his past embarrassment on a skateboard would ever actually benefit him, and he hobbled up the steps toward Brendon, remembering to limp properly.

He sat down with his butt on the foot rest and the backs of his knees raised and resting on the seat in front of Brendon. He leaned back partially against the seat Brendon was laying on and partially against Brendon's arm. With the exception of the involvement of Brendon, it was how all the cool kids sat when they were just too awesome to sit normally like everyone else.

There were no words; none from either of them, and none to describe the heaviness of the moment. There were simply no words. Brendon sniffed quietly and Ryan knew he hadn't been wrong about the shaking of the boy's small body. He felt that he had intruded enough and he chose to say nothing; not even when Brendon moved slightly and took a lock of Ryan's hair between his fingers. Ryan was simply careful to keep his head completely still even though thinking about it caused his neck to ache and feel strained. He felt his hair flipping slowly through Brendon's fingers, and with that, there wasn't even a need for words. Words would have just polluted the air that the two of them shared at the time, and Ryan just wanted his friend to be able to breathe.

*****

Ryan's attention turned from the sidewalk to the bus when he passed the back of it. When he looked up, he saw Brendon's face with a tired smirk staring at him from the window. His head and the back of his hand were resting against the glass and he looked like he had simply collapsed there upon reaching the last seat in the bus. Ryan's smile was sudden and he bypassed their usual seat in the front, not seeing Brendon until he was halfway to him because the boy was sunken so far down in the seat.

"Hey you."

"Hey, just thought I'd change things up a bit."

"That's fine, that's fine. How are you?"

Brendon didn't respond because they both knew the answer. He twisted himself sideways and casually stuck his arm behind Ryan's lower back to keep him close, but he positioned his forearm vertically along Ryan's spine to keep his hand from sticking out the other side.

"Awww," Ryan put his face against the top of Brendon's head for a second and resisted the urge to hold the boy just like he was holding him. "This is nice."

Brendon nodded while nuzzling his head against Ryan's arm, and Ryan felt his chest melt. He didn't know what to say when he looked down at the boy who was essentially curled up next to him, so once again, he remained speechless. Brendon seemed to take his breath away most of the time, anyway.

*****

It wasn't working and Brendon knew it. Ryan made him feel too safe and there was too much that could happen; either he'd trust Ryan with too much and reveal everything, or he'd be crushed by the weight of the guilt if he forced himself to keep secrets. Either way, Brendon knew he was in trouble. He didn't want to admit to knowing that it would all be easier if he had never met Ryan, but it had been easier for over a year while he had no one to keep secrets from and no one to love. The only person he had to deal with had been himself, but now he had to consider someone else's emotions and life as well. He didn't want it to do to Ryan what it had done to him, and he knew that Ryan wouldn't want to hear about how his life and dignity had been chipped away down to pretty much nothing.

Brendon didn't cringe when he looked in the mirror. His chin was over his shoulder to see the reflection of his back and all he could do was compare it to all the other times. This one was intense; it was a dark purple and it hurt whenever he bent over or sat or laid down. He knew he had lived with worse, though, and he took comfort in the fact that it could always be worse. By this point, the marks on his stomach and sides were so commonplace that he usually just forgot they were always there. After so many months with them, he knew he'd feel strange if they suddenly stopped coming. It would mean he'd have no money and no way out; no future, and no hope to make anything out of what he could manage to salvage of his life. Brendon was terrified by the thought of being stuck forever in the place he was in at age fourteen.

He needed to be better for Friday. Thursday's excuse, although it wasn't much of one, was that he had worked and he was tired. But kids his age didn't work, and if they did, they didn't suffer complete emotional breakdowns from scooping ice cream and they didn't work until two or three in the morning. Brendon knew he had to get himself together, if only for Ryan's sake. He knew his boyfriend was a worrier. He didn't want to think about how he'd end up destroying Ryan with what he kept hidden.

Brendon had to wear a shirt that night, despite the heat, because he and his back were just too ugly for anyone to stumble upon. His stereo sat on the corner of his mattress that was pressed into the corner of the wall, and he turned the volume down low, just loud enough to let it whisper in his ear. He lost consciousness with his forehead against the wire mesh of the cheap speakers, and that felt okay to him.

*****

Brendon's smile returned the next day the moment Ryan first looked at him, and Ryan welcomed it back. There were still so many answers he wanted but not once throughout the day was he able to bring himself to ask. Brendon was radiant each time their eyes met and so much life had returned to him that Ryan was almost able to put his concerns aside.

Brendon's smirk even distracted Ryan when he asked him to sign his mother's name on a forged note, just because Ryan had "girly enough handwriting." Brendon didn't feel like participating in gym, and Ryan's worry was pushed aside by Brendon's jokes. Brendon claimed to be thinking of a way to break a leg in order to miss as much class as possible. He took the pen from Ryan and pretended to stab himself in the thigh, but Ryan simply took his hand and informed him that his plan may be slightly inadequate.

Ryan didn't like Spencer's cautious attitude toward his boyfriend. Spencer wasn't sure of what to make of Brendon's apparent mood swings, and the boy's inability to tell Ryan what was going on was something that just bothered Spencer.

Ryan spent a good portion of his afternoon on the phone with his friend. Nothing was accomplished, but Ryan did get a chance to lay his questions out in front of someone who couldn't answer them, and it didn't do anything to make Spencer less nervous. It was the last day of the school week and Brendon had brightened up considerably, but Ryan was still scared. Nothing could go away as quickly as Brendon seemed to try to get across.

"But his smile, my God... his smile is so honest, you know?"

"Yeah, and maybe it is. What if he just naturally smiles when he sees you? God that's gross, but you know what I mean."

Ryan rolled his eyes and pretended that Spencer could hear them over the phone. "I just don't know how he could fake something like that. It was too real, like... he was just so happy..."

"Happy to see you, Ry. Especially if shit's going on with him; he was probably just really happy to be with you, ya know?"

"But that doesn't mean he really was happy."

"No, I know. I don't think he was. You made him happy, but with how he acted, I think that's about all he had."

Ryan's heart sank when he realized he hadn't been the only one concerned about that. "He just won't stop making me laugh, and Jesus Christ, that smile, I don't even—"

"Ryan."

"What."

"Your boyfriend is an amazing actor."

Brendon could put on such a beautiful smile. He could trigger laughter that made Ryan's sides hurt, and he could make Ryan feel things. When Ryan ended the call with Spencer, he closed his eyes, but he didn't fight the couple tears that trickled out when his throat started to ache. If Brendon could put on such an honest, beautiful act of happiness, Ryan didn't want to think about the meaning that may or may not have backed Brendon's words when he told him he loved him.

*****

Ryan's dad was busy not being able to put his work down, but since he enjoyed it so much, he left the man alone downstairs. He was content after talking him into an hour or so of television. Brendon's number in the contacts of his phone was listed as a simple less-than-three instead of the boy's name, and as soon as the clock hit nine, Ryan called him. He didn't want to call too early and wake up his mother, but he didn't want to call too late and reveal all of his desperation.

Brendon's mom sounded a lot happier than Ryan had imagined. Her voice was pretty and lively and he could just tell how much she adored her son.

"Well Sweetie, he's taking a shower right now. How about I have him call you when he's finished, or you could just call back..."

"Okay, um... alright, can I ask you something?" Ryan cringed and nervously scratched his head.

"Of course."

"Would it be, uh... would it be too much of a problem if I came over, or would you rather not have—"

"Oh Hun it's Friday, and I'll be leaving soon anyway. I'm sure Brendon would love to have a friend over tonight."

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not! I was going to make him some pancakes before I left for work; I'd be glad to make some extra."

Ryan didn't give much though to the peculiar food choice. "Wow, that would be awesome!"

"Well if you make it over here soon, I'll see you before I leave."

"Okay, I uh... could you possibly give me directions?"

"Well when you get here, I have all my little pinwheels set up out front..."

Ryan grinned and wrote down some directions. It was simple enough, although he knew he hadn't been in that area very much. It wasn't the wealthiest side of town, but then again, neither was his area. He made his way down to where his dad was working and he causally entered the storage closet, exiting a moment later with a large box fan that had not been used in a while.

"Hey uh, Dad... I need you to take me to Brendon's."

"Mmm... such a commanding young man, you are."

Ryan sighed and held the fan under his arm. "Pleeeeeease?"

"So you know where he lives?"

"I got his mom to tell me. I just need a way over there. I can, uh, take the car if you really don't wanna leave."

"Oh, of course that's what I want." George pulled out his keys and tossed them to his son. "The house key's on there, too. It's yours now. Just look out for all those bills that will be coming your way from now on, as well as any police correspondence that results from you trying to drive all over creation."

He could tell his dad was just trying to be a jerk, which was the trend among Ryan himself and everyone he associated with. "Come on, Dad; you need to know where my boyfriend lives so you'll know where I am if I ever run away."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because you're a horrible father who won't take his son anywhere." Ryan pouted and clutched the fan as if it were a teddy bear.

"Yeah, that's me. No boyfriends, Ryan. None." George reached up and messed with his son's hair. "Do I want to know what you're doing with that fan?"

"Giving it to Brendon."

The man paused and looked at the blank, innocent expression on his son's face. "Okay, no more details; probably better that way."

"Dad you're wrong and disgusting and wrong and—"

"Disgusting?"

"Yes, Dad, you're gross."

"You're giving your husband a fan, Ryan."

"You made a joke about condoms!"

George laughed and nodded proudly. "Your mother would kill us both. You for, well, yeah; and me for not caring."

"And joking about condoms and fans and ugh, Dad, why can't you just be like every other parent and throw a fit and tell me how awful I am?"

George gently hit his son on the back as he walked away. "Because you're not awful. I raised you myself, you know; I know you're a good kid."

*****

The car turned onto the long road that was supposed to lead to Brendon's house, and Ryan turned to look back to where they had come from. The parking lot that included the Burger King was hardly visible and Ryan had no idea how Brendon made such a long walk in the horrible heat when he refused the ride home.

His dad sped up and the corn on either side of the car seemed to speed by. Ryan looked at the clock and was thankful for the long daylight hours; there wasn't much he hated more than being in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by endless fields that could contain anyone or anything with only the moon to illuminate potential dangers.

The final turn they made was onto a poorly paved road, lined on each side by white limestone gravel. Ryan felt isolated and lonely among the unfamiliar expanse of crops. A cluster of large pine-looking trees sprouted up in a row behind a line of several trailers. Ryan estimated there were ten or fifteen homes lined up with a small distance between each of them. Ryan was silent as his dad slowed to a stop in front of the one with an obnoxious number of shiny, colorful, glittery pinwheels shoved in the ground around the front. He wasn't sure if he hoped Brendon's mom was serious about them or not.

He wasn't quick to leave the car. He took a second to take in his new surroundings; the homes were situated in a large clearing, backed by the trees even though a wide open area of grass stood between the trees and where the field picked up again and essentially put an end to the back yards. None of the small buildings were particularly nice, although Ryan could tell the Brendon's was one of the few that housed someone who at least cared a little bit. The pinwheels were one sign, as was the amount of rust near the windows compared to some of the other homes. Ryan just really couldn't get over the thick teal stripe that wrapped around the whole place and how awful it looked with a rainbow of pinwheels spinning below.

Ryan got out and ducked into the back seat to retrieve the fan, and his dad eyed him up somberly. They both knew why Brendon didn't want a ride, and it broke Ryan's heart that the boy had thought he'd mind and judge him.

"You, uh... call me when you need me to come get you, alright?" Ryan nodded and shut the door, and his dad spoke through the open window. "Just try not to make it too late, but don't worry too much about it. I won't kill you if you wake me up."

"Yeah, I... I'll just call you later?"

George smiled and rolled up the window. He was usually pretty cool, but it wasn't often that he didn't give Ryan a specific time to call it a night. He normally didn't want to be driving all over town in the early hours of the morning to get his kid, but it seemed like he was making an exception for his son's new relationship.

His dad pulled away and Ryan stood on the pavement holding the fan. A group of children stopped what they were doing between Brendon's home and another, and they shot him a concerned look before they started to approach, keeping a safe distance. "Hey, hey who are you?"

"Just visiting; who are you?"

The littlest one jumped forward and clutched a soccer ball. "I'm Jake!"

"No!" A taller boy hit Jake in the arm and pushed him back. "You don't know who he is!"

"My name's Ryan, it's okay. You guys live around here?"

A couple of the boys nodded cautiously, but the others remained defensively shy of the stranger that was Ryan.

"Well, it's alright, I'm just here to visit Brendon. I think you guys play with him?"

"Who?"

"Brendon, he lives here." Ryan nodded toward the pinwheels.

"Oh, there's a guy there who looks like your age. I don't know his name."

"Oh, uh, he said he plays with some kids here, I just figured..."

The boy shook his head. "Nope, never talked to him. Why do you got that fan?"

"It's... for my friend. Brendon's my friend."

"Oh, okay. Bye I guess." The boy grabbed the ball from the smallest one and they casually resumed their game, confident that Ryan wasn't a threat.

The steps leading to the door sounded hollow against Ryan's feet and he stepped lightly, standing back from the door a bit and craning his neck to look in through the screen. The door was open and Ryan could smell the distinct scent of chocolate chip pancakes as well as see a woman standing by the stove to cook them. He tapped on the aluminum door with his knuckle and produced a small smile when she turned around.

"Well hi, Ryan, come on in."

Ryan pulled the door open and shut it quietly. He was never this shy. He sat the fan down and wondered where Brendon was and most importantly, why he wasn't with him right then. Brendon's mom was wonderfully nice but Ryan had no idea where he was. The place was narrow and cluttered with clothing and Ryan tried not to look around too much. "You can call me Grace, and you can eat these pancakes. Did you find the place alright?" Grace sat two full plates on the counter and formally greeted Ryan with a hug. Ryan's heart shivered with a small bit of happiness; he had forgotten what a mother's hug even felt like, and this mom was too nice.

"Yeah, it was no problem. Where's, uh..."

"You know, I'm not sure what's gotten into him? I told him you were coming over and, well..." Grace nodded toward the couch, where her son laid still on his stomach with his face buried in the cushion, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Did you guys have a fight or anything? He really wasn't too happy about it... he kept telling me you weren't supposed to come here, so here I've been wondering what kinda person you are, but I must say you're a very nice guy."

Ryan wasn't sure why everyone liked to mess with his hair, but Grace apparently liked to as well. "Oh, I uh... I have no idea, we're friends..." He glanced over at his boyfriend who was still on the couch. "I have no idea, really." He kind of did have an inkling, but he wasn't about to bring it up.

"Well I didn't want to make you feel bad; I love having visitors. If he wants to mope around all night, just come out here and hang out with old mom until she goes to work, understand?"

Ryan smiled and nodded. He really wouldn't have minded that. He picked up the fan and shuffled over to Brendon's lifeless body, speaking quietly and slowly. "Heeeeey Bren, what's up?"

"You can go home now."

"Brendon!" Grace shouted from the kitchen, obviously afraid of offending her guest.

"Shut up, Mom! Ryan, just leave, okay? I know you don't want to be here."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you don't want me—"

"It doesn't matter what I want." Brendon raised is voice and looked his mother in the eye. "It doesn't ever matter to anyone what I want."

"Well if that's the case, I wanna be here, so I am."

"Yeah B,"

Ryan turned around to see a gorgeous brunette sitting in a recliner. Somehow, he had missed her when he walked in.

"You don't need to be a brat; dude wants to hang out with you, God, just let him."

Brendon sighed angrily. "Ryan, Alyssa. My sister and also my mother half the time. Come on." He grabbed Ryan's forearm and took him down the painfully narrow hallway. Ryan was afraid his shoulders would brush against the walls as he walked. The hall was dark but some light made it down through the living room, and Brendon turned to face Ryan, lowering his voice and exposing his overflowing eyes. "Why are you here?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because I love you and I was interested in seeing you tonight?"

"Ryan I didn't want you here. Not here; we could have met somewhere else. I could have come over. I didn't want you here."

"But why? Why can't I come here, Brendon?"

"Because I'm fucking trash, okay? I did everything I could to keep you from finding out because I fucking like you!" Brendon pulled Ryan through a doorway, slamming the door and flipping on a light. "I knew you'd fucking laugh and never talk to my nasty ass again if you ever saw this shithole, Ryan."

Ryan was torn between responding to Brendon and looking around the tiny room. They were standing in front of a white sheet that stretched across the room and hung down slightly in the middle, allowing the overhead light to shine on both sides of the room.

"See? It's fucking disgusting, just like me, and you can go home now and lay in your sweet little bed and not worry about anything. Just, if you make fun of me, don't do it to my face, okay? Or you can, whatever, I don't care anymore."

Ryan didn't acknowledge the tears on his own cheeks. He didn't know what do say or do and he just pressed the handle of the fan into Brendon's right hand and he wrapped his own hand around Brendon's left.

"What's this for?"

"You said it was always hot in here."

"So?"

"I... just wanted to help, I'm sorry."

Brendon looked at the floor and he looked ashamed. "You weren't supposed to see this place."

"How can you say all that stuff?"

"It's true."

Ryan shook his head. He had no words. He gently dropped Brendon's hand and placed his own on the back of Brendon's head. He drew the boy's sad face closer so he could touch their lips together. The kiss lingered for a second before Ryan pulled away, but he kept his fingers in place among the strands of Brendon's damp hair. "The only thing that's true is that I love you, Brendon."

Defeated, Brendon shook his head and pulled the sheet back, revealing a bare mattress, a blanket, a stereo, and an interesting wall. Some things were piled on the floor parallel to Brendon's pillow, but Ryan didn't want to concentrate on them.

"This is what I have, Ryan. This is it. And you; but that's all. I know you don't want to be here."

"Of course I do." Ryan gently sat down on the mattress and stuck is legs out across it. "This is just where you live, Baby. Why would I care?"

"Because I'm disgusting." Brendon sat down on the bed and folded his arms defiantly, but he ended up looking like he was holding himself.

"You're acting like a little kid, Bren... I don't understand this."

"Maybe I am? I'm only fourteen fucking years old; I'm a goddamn child and I'll act like one if I want."

Ryan nodded. "So you will. But seriously, how could you ever think I'd judge you like that?"

"Because I'm disgusting."

"Would you stop saying that?"

"No."

Ryan sighed loudly and wiped his eyes. "If you were so disgusting, why did I completely fucking fall in love with you as soon as I saw you?"

"Because you're stupid? I don't know."

Ryan hadn't been offended by anything that was previously said, but Brendon's accusation had stabbed him in the throat. He didn't have words to respond with and he simply looked down at his lap. Maybe Brendon had been acting, and he was finally deciding to call it quits.

"Fuck." Brendon looked away for a second before putting a fragile arm around Ryan's shoulders. "I didn't mean that."

"You fucking said it."

"I shouldn't have because I didn't mean it, Ryan." Brendon took his arm back and started to curl up into a ball. He leaned sideways and slowly laid himself in Ryan's lap with his head on the boy's thigh and against his stomach.

Ryan shook his head for a reason he couldn't really identify. It was just an appropriate response to the entire evening. Brendon used his lap as a pillow and the boy's hand was clutching Ryan's knee, and Ryan started to look around. A stack of CDs and a box of thin markers sat next to the mattress, and paper was stuck to the wall behind him. It was covered with cluttered writing and he didn't feel like throwing Brendon off of him just to read it.

He quietly flipped the cover on the stereo to see if his guess about the selection was correct, and it was. Brendon didn't seem to have many albums but Ryan figured it didn't bother him much, seeing as he only ever listened to one thing and one song in particular. He turned it on and turned the volume up enough that sound filled their little area of the room, and Brendon was still. Ryan barely moved, either, but he slowly moved his hand up and down from Brendon's side to his thigh. His hand eventually came to rest happily on Brendon's hip and the boy's body felt so small to him; Brendon really was just a child, curled up in his lap because he was upset. It only strengthened Ryan's already unnatural tendency to want to care for him.

"Brendon?" Ryan's voice cracked scratchily from not being used in several minutes.

"I'm awake."

"No, you're perfect."

*****

The faint scent of chocolate got to their stomachs after a while, and Brendon sulked out to the kitchen to get their food. Ryan watched as an apologetic boy fell against his mother's chest and hugged her close, and Ryan had to turn his attention to the cat that was conveniently staring at him. Ryan wanted that hug. He needed it, but he knew he wouldn't get it.

Brendon came back to life a little bit and he shoveled food into his mouth, and Ryan smiled happily at the boy's random jokes. He hardly cared if they were funny or not; Brendon was laughing at himself, which was funny on its own, but most importantly, at least he was happy.

Ryan thought back to his conversation with Spencer. Brendon was at least acting happy. It made Ryan uncomfortable, but he just kept watching Brendon's smile; something his heart still insisted was real.

The wall beside Brendon's bed was covered with paper. Sheets of blank white paper had been taped up like wallpaper and Brendon had written hundreds of little words and phrases and even some long paragraphs all over the place with various colored markers.

"I'm gonna guess that when you were little you sat in the corner a lot for drawing on the walls?"

Brendon laughed shyly and looked down, nodding. He was still one of those children who liked to write on walls.

"You probably have a novel written on here somewhere."

"Yeah, probably."

Ryan leaned over and grabbed the markers. "Can I?"

Brendon's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Yeah, go for it... do whatever, it's alright."

Ryan smiled brightly and bit his lip while he scanned the words. He wasn't sure what to write or where to write it. He was both happy and devastated to see some of his favorite lyrics scrawled across the paper, but reading some of them in Brendon's innocent handwriting seemed to pull Ryan's heart out through his throat.

you said there would not be any reason to fear this world, but you're the reason, you're the reason i feel broken and branded and burning with doubt. the welts are faded and the pain still lingers as it should. these things are dealt in increments. constant, and laced with detriment. how dare you ever feign surprise when all those fingers point inside, they're piercing you.

In Ryan's mind, Brendon was too young to like songs like this. He was too young to find meaning in these words, and even though they weren't even a whole year apart, Brendon was too young to even write them down. He didn't notice that his hand had moved to Brendon's arm as he read; he was gently running his fingers against the soft skin and giving Brendon goosebumps.

Brendon smiled while he watched him read. He felt like someone was finally noticing that he might be more than just a piece of property, and while Ryan read, he was reading things that Brendon knew he couldn't ever say.

Ryan decided to start commenting. He wanted to write happiness into every line, but he couldn't; he could only do so much.

this is where the water becomes shallow and nothing here is quite as deep as you hoped it would be.

I know that's not true, love

deep in the dust of the sandiest grave you can find, it's a new desert life

Ryan continued the lyric that he had memorized.

To be reborn again out of glass and sand

and you're shimmering and you are clear

Brendon exhaled loudly and Ryan turned his attention to him. There was a small smile on his tired face and Ryan carefully touched his cheek as if he were afraid to break the skin. Brendon felt so soft and fragile and Ryan didn't know what to do, but he searched for an empty spot on the paper, because he did know what he wanted to write.

If you insist on pictures of shorelines,

then I insist on pages of your lines meant for me.

I

Love

You

Ryan finished the block of text by drawing a simple circle. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the circle before he brushed the markers off the mattress and pulled Brendon's forehead against his own. Their heads knocked together softly and Ryan felt their eyelashes brush each other. He gently gripped Brendon's hair while he touched their noses together and whispered. "You have to let me, Baby."

"Let you what?"

"Just let me."

Brendon nodded and touched Ryan's chest.

"I love you."

Brendon closed his eyes and laid his head on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan kept himself from wrapping his arms around the boy. He kept his hands on the back of Brendon's head and he inhaled against his hair, wondering where Brendon managed to find such an excellent blueberry shampoo.

Brendon had never willingly let himself be so close to another person, but everything felt too right.

*****

part 4