The Naked Truth [Ryden]

Twenty-three: Destroya (Everything)

Brendon's father walked out when he was thirteen. Brendon's response was, for the most part, hormonal. He was doing things no thirteen-year-old should do: stealing porn magazines from the older kids, kissing older boys in the park, taking his anger and frustration out on his mother and, occasionally, his bedroom wall. He watched disturbing porn and let the older boys touch him.

When he became fifteen, he turned to sex, losing his virginity on the couch of some older guy on the swim team he barely knew. Three years later, that guy returned, introducing himself as Spencer Smith. It wasn't romantic at all, it was just sex, but by then Brendon was too far gone to care, turning into the nasty little apathetic pornstar he was today.

But one thing that stood out for him was the day his father left.

He knew something was up, especially when he came downstairs and found a suitcase by the door. He picked it up and hid it behind his back just as his father walked in the house, and he frowned when he saw his son.

"Give that to me." He said, and Brendon shook his head.

"What's going on? Where are you going?"

"Just away, it doesn't matter. Give me the case."

"No! Tell me where you're going!"

"Give me the case, Brendon." The teenager shook his head. "I'm gonna count to three, and if you don't give me that suitcase, so help me God..."

"You're not having it!"

Truth be told, he was a little bit scared of his father, but he was also a little bit stupid.

"One..."

"No, Dad!"

"Two..."

"Dad!"

"Three..."

"No!"

Suddenly he was backhanded across the face, so hard he dropped the suitcase and slumped against the wall. "I'm leaving!" His father yelled. "Can't you see why?! I don't want to have to put up with a useless child like you!"

As Brendon began to cry, his mother came downstairs, and he ran up to his room as they began to argue, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoing in his life forever.

He thought about that moment as he stood in his hallway, clutching Jon's car keys, the keys he'd stolen two days ago, the last time he'd seen his mom and stepdad. He could see his father walking out the front door, telling him how useless he was, and he gripped the keys tighter, the metal digging into his palm.

Ryan came up behind him and kissed his neck, a warm smile on his face. They'd spent the past two days discussing where to go, because they wanted to go now - before they changed their mind or before something changed their mind for them. In the end they'd just decided to drive and drive and drive until they ran out of gas, and wherever they wound up would be wherever they stayed. It was a shitty plan, one destined to go wrong somewhere, but it was all they had. Ryan had to get out of there and take Brendon with him before Spencer found out and ruined everything.

Because Ryan was falling in love, and this was never supposed to happen, but he couldn't help it, and pushing it away wasn't easy. So he just let it hit him and prayed that Brendon would never find out about The Plan.

The plan that seemed to have disintegrated by now, because Dallon was dead and Ryan didn't want to do it, and its original creator was losing his mind and was supposed to be dating the man he hated so much, his lying ex-boyfriend. So there was no plan anymore, not really. That didn't mean that Brendon couldn't find out about it, though. Brendon couldn't find out about it.