Lost Thoughts

Saving Ryder

"You're my favorite mistake.

The one I keep loving to make."

Tove Lo, Crave

Clink!

The first pebble struck my window, and I willed my thoughts away from a psycho murderer, toying with me before officially and brutally offing me.

Clink!

I yanked the covers up to my chin, as if my fluffy blue blanket would serve as my knight in shining armor.

Clink!

By this time, I decided to do a little investigation. Maybe it was a tree branch waking against my window. The thought would have calmed me, except for the simple and terrifying fact that there was no tree outside my window.

Clink!

I tiptoed slowly to my window, glancing over my shoulder every other second. It was dark in my room, given the time. The only source of light was the streetlight, illuminating my furniture, and casting odd shadows.

Clink!

I peeked out the window. My heart crept up my throat upon seeing a dark figure standing in my front lawn. The guy wound his arm back and

Clink!

I ducked as if  avoiding rapid gun fire. My breath slowly returned to normal, and in that period of time I'd mustered up the audacity to glance over the window sill.

I slowly rose up. A rather dramatic rise from the ashes. I allowed myself to look at this guy, really look at him. And that's when it hit me

Clink!

"Ryder?" I frowned, sliding my window open. I gust of biting fresh air lathered my bare arms.

Ryder Quin in all his destructive glory, dropped his handful of pebbles and waved up at me. Then he motioned for me to come down.

"I can't." I said softly. I shook my head. I can't gauge how my super-strict parents would feel about me meeting some tattoo covered, leather jacket wearing guy at (what was now) 2:56 AM on a Sunday morning. Ryder and I didn't share relations in that sense. What we had was purely platonic, in a very comfortable way even.

"Just come downstairs at least!" Ryder yelled.

"Shhh!" I hissed, turning for my bedroom door.

I was downstairs, standing in my front lawn--despite my prior protests.

Ryder stood there in his jacket with his hands in his pockets, looking rather out of character.

You see, every high school has that one guy graced with the seemingly unobtainable bad boy charm. He didn't give a shit about school, although he could probably pass with a 3.8 grade point average if he applied himself. He only communicated through daunting smirks and  silent stares. He only spoke to you every blue moon, and it was certainly something for the records. Although, he and I were more familiar. And, of course, he had one--if not two--intricate sleeves of meaningful tattoos. In Ryder's case it was one and a half.

But at the moment, I didn't feel intimidated or anxious around Ryder, not in the way that one usually is around such a person.

In all honesty it was Ryder himself who seemed a bit on edge.

We had been standing outside, in the cold of night, just waiting for Ryder to say something. I didn't feel obligated to start nor carry the conversation. After all, I wasn't the one barraging my window with pebbles.

"Life revolves around the principal of unexpected occurrences." He blurted. "Every day is like a wild card, and you have to figure out what you want to do with it."

"You woke me up for  this--"

"I'm getting to the point, so would you please." Ryder glanced up at the black sky as if trying desperately to recall some sort of script. "Sometimes you make good decisions, and, well, other times you just don't."

I rubbed my hands up and down the length of my arms, trying to collect heat.

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't at least experience those bad decisions. Because those shitty ideas are going to make your story worth telling in the end."

"Ryder."

"Run away with me."

"What?" I hissed.

"I get that we're young and all but-"

"There's a lot more to it than just being young. I'm not going any where, and neither are you." I said.

"No, you don't understand. I have to go. There aren't enough wild cards here." Ryder tried to explain, but I wasn't up to listen.

"Not enough wild cards?" I scoffed. "Ryder you're being impatient and stubborn. Things aren't exciting now, but just wait for graduation. You have an entire life."

"And after that college." Ryder muttered. "I don't want to waste my life in a classroom just to move onto an office."

"But-"

"Look, I wasn't asking for your permission." And I present to you the original Ryder Quin. Cold glares and a set jaw. Whatever spark of weakness I saw in him before, allowing him to let me in, was gone. "I was just telling you."

"Don't leave." I resorted to merely begging. "I need you." I said this with the intentions of getting Ryder to stay but I found an alarming truth behind them.

I did need Ryder. Over the months, I had become accustom to his sarcasm and his teasing and his occasional opening up.

Ryder squeezed his eyes shut. What I said hit him. Hard.

"Well." A few seconds passed and Ryder opened his eyes again. "I don't need you."

My heart never ached in that way before. It didn't pain me because he said he didn't want me. It destroyed my very essences because I could see that he was lying. Whatever formidable force that ruled over him would not let him admit that he needed me in his life.

He was not himself, and the only thing coming against him was him himself.

That was a battle him had to deal with.

What could I possibly do that change that?

Nothing.

And that's what I did. I went back inside when it was clear the conversation had ended. I woke up the next day, and word quickly spread about Bad Boy Ryder's disappearance.

I suddenly and profusely regretted my lack of effort in trying to save Ryder.

He was gone forever, and though it wasn't exactly to the fault of my undoings, the guilt never tasted so grotesque.