The Diary of Ryan Ross

chapter twelve

December 1, 2004

Dear diary,

Was that cliche? Good, I wanted to catch you off guard.

It was snowing when I woke up for school today. My alarm got me up, like, ten minutes late. I knew it the second Helena started ending. It's my alarm for everything.

God, I love My Chemical Romance.

But, I was very late. I looked at the time on my alarm clock. 6:56. The bus gets here at seven.

I toss the sheets off of me and scramble off of my bed, desperately searching for something decent to wear. I threw on the jeans I had laying on the floor, not really bothering to change my shirt, or look at what it even said for that matter. I flew down the stairs, grabbing my shoes by the door.

"Someone's late," I hear from the living room.

"Yeah, I know, dad. Thanks for pointing that out for me." He sets down the paper and walks over to me, kneeling down beside me. He's squinting his eyes, though the light is dim.

He's fucking hungover.

"Are you ever going to stop hating me?" He asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off of me.

"Not a great question, I'm trying to leave, so sorry," I rush out, trying to avoid him in every way possible.

"George, please. Talk to me."

"It's Ryan, dad! Ryan. You're George and I don't want your goddamn name. So stop. You don't want to talk to me. You want mom and to get drunk. Have a good time last night, father? Does the alcohal make the pain stop? Does it make you forget?" I am seething. He stares at me with a solemn expression. "You know what? Whatever. I'm gonna miss the bus by wasting my time here. Bye, George."

I do almost miss the bus, but some kind soul, Patrick is his name I believe, stalls the driver.

Brendon is waiting for me in our seat, which is typical because, even though he's just down the street, he gets on before I do. He smiles when he sees me.

"Hey," Brendon whispers, scooting over for me. I slump my backpack onto my thighs, locking eyes with Brendon. "I missed you."

"It's only been two days."

"Two days without you is equivelent to an eternity."

I'm rereading that and it doesn't really sound like something Brendon would say, especially not on the bus. Maybe he didn't say it, maybe I did. Maybe I'm not remembering this morning correctly. God, my mind is buzzing from the whiskey right now.

"Yeah?" I ask, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him closer to me, so we're nose to nose.

"Yeah," He replies cooly, pushing his lips against mine. I sigh, enjoying the attention he's paying to my mouth, admiring his ability to hunch down and make out with me this early, without getting seen by the bitches on the bus. His tongue slips between my lips and nope, nope, I can't get turned on this early.

I pull back from him, directing my attention to my hands, for they're the only thing not shaking from the jerky movements of the bus.

"Ryan? Are you okay?"

I think about my dad. About his wobbling around because he's hungover and everything hurts. Everything hurts.

Why can't I just be enough for once?! Why can't he forget about mom for one day? Why won't he let me at least try to take the pain away?

No. He's too hung up on a dead woman to care about his failure of a son.

"Yeah, just woke up late," I half-lie. Brendon gives me a half-smile, and now I guess we're half-assing everything today, because I only finished half of my homework and only got to eat half of my lunch.