The Agent

13

AHHH I GOT EXCITED I HAD TO I'M SORRY

Also potentially triggering towards the end ??

The Weekes' had a nice house and a nice neighborhood. Their bushes were properly trimmed, the paint on their house wasn't chipped and the sprinklers came on at 5 pm precisely. Ryan could tell as he drove down the street. Thankfully, Brendon was driving, so he wasn't tempted to ram the car into the house. The sun was just disappearing behind the skyline as they pulled into the driveway. Brendon stopped the car and looked over at Ryan. He smiled and rubbed his thigh encouragingly.

"They'll love you, Ry. I swear."

"They'll?"

"Dallon, his wife Breezy and two kids." Ryan smiled and looked down at his lap, taking Brendon's hand in his.

"You're right. They'll love me." Brendon laughed and Ryan blushed. He hadn't heard that laugh in a long time.

"Here, let me fix your tie." He leaned in and tightened Ryan's tie, his breath hitting the other man's cheek. He pulled away and smiled. "Ready when you are." They walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell. Breezy appeared at the door a few seconds later, smiling brightly at the pair. A small figure ducked behind her legs.

"You look beautiful as always, Breezy," Brendon said, handing Ryan the bottle of wine in his hand. He bent down and the small child peered around her mother's legs. "Hi Amelie."

"Hi Brendin." He smiled at her. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing at Ryan. He shuffled awkwardly and smiled at her.

"That's my boyfriend, Ryan."

She giggled and waved at him. "He's pretty." Brendon chuckled at Ryan's embarrassed face.

"Yeah, he's very pretty."

"Well, let's not stand here all night, come on in!" Breezy said. Ryan held up the wine bottle.

"We brought a little gift." Breezy smiled and took it, ushering the couple in and closing the door. Dallon appeared from the kitchen, not dressed in his usual suit and tie attire. He shook both of their hands and led them into the kitchen.

"God, it smells amazing in here, Breez!" Brendon announced, walking over to a pot and smell it. Dallon turned to Ryan and rolled his eyes.

"Women," he muttered jokingly, as Breezy walked past and hit him with a wooden spoon.

"Dinner'll be ready in a few. Bren, be a doll and check on Knox quickly?" Brendon nodded and kissed Ryan's cheek, heading upstairs. Ryan sat down at the table, stomach bubbling with nervousness. He watched how Breezy and Dallon worked around each other in the kitchen, almost like an interpretive dance, each knowing the other's movements before they happened.

They're so in love.

It made him feel better seeing them like this. He freaked out over nothing. Something brushing against his knee brought him back to reality and he looked up at Brendon's smiling face. Breezy placed the plates on the table and sat down, Dallon sitting next to her.

"Knox is down and out, I'm happy to announce," Brendon said. They all dug into their food and spent the next hour and a half laughing and joking around. It felt so right, so natural, and absolutely nothing could ruin this moment.

"Where's the bathroom?" Ryan asked.

"Down the hall, first door on the right," Dallon said, pointing the sponge he was using to point in that direction. Ryan nodded and put his napkin on the table, walking towards the hallway. After he closed the door and finished his business, he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. Quick outfit check, everything was in place. Except for the trash can. He saw Dallon's face and a bunch of other men.

To be nosy or not to be nosy.

The answer was always to be nosy. He reached into the garbage and picked the the crumpled picture out of it. It was a group FBI photo. He looked through the picture, recognizing some faces from his unfortunate day at the police station.

And then everything shattered.

The face smiling at him at the table before was the same smiling at him in the picture.

He ran a finger over the face, as if his fingertip could wipe it away, leaving a stranger's face there instead.

He kept rubbing, and rubbing, and rubbing. The paper tore.

His knees wobbled.

Every emotion in his body turned to anger.

His hands clenched into fists. He stormed out of the bathroom and stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Brendon looked up at him and smiled.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No," he said through clenched teeth. Dallon turned the water off and looked at Ryan. "Care to explain this?" He held the picture up. Brendon stood up and examined the picture, face turning white. "You're a fucking FBI agent?" Brendon didn't answer, causing Ryan's anger to flare. "Unemployed my ass! You lied to me! You're using me, aren't you?"

"Ry," Brendon placed a hand on his shoulder, "You need to calm do-"

Ryan jerked Brendon's hand off and backed up.

"I'm not calming down." Brendon took a hesitant step forward. "Tell me you aren't using me."

"At first, I was. And I'm ashamed at that." Wrong thing to say, Brendon. "But then I fell for you and everything changed." Dallon placed a hand on Brendon's arm as a silent Stop talking.

"I can't believe this, I can't fucking believe this." Brendon reached an arm forward. "Don't touch me! Don't." The last word dropped to a defeated whisper. He turned and opened the door, slamming it as Brendon reached it. Dallon grabbed Brendon's arm again.

"Let him blow off some steam. It'll be alright."

-

His eyes were dry at this point, every tear in his body having already flown out. He sniffled and wiped his nose, getting mad at himself and kicking over a trash can. He stood on the sidewalk alone in the cold. Why didn't Brendon come after him?

He groaned and closed his eyes, just standing there.

I could just lay in the middle of the road right fucking now.

I should.

He took a shaky breath and moved his legs, finding himself in the middle of the street. He closed his eyes again and smiled as he heard a car driving down the street.

He waited for the collision.

The collision that never came. He opened his eyes, seeing the car stopped in front of him. And then something hit him hard over the head and he fell to the ground.

The last thing he saw was the fading light from a streetlamp as someone dragged him away.