Before you start reading, I just want you to be aware that there will be triggering scenes like graphic descriptions of self-harm and abuse in this one-shot. Please don't read if you are easily triggered, stay safe! :)
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Ryan always seemed oh so sad, slim frame wrapped up in skinny jeans and faded out band shirts. Smiling was a rare occurence and if he was asked if he was ok, he just nodded and the words "I'm fine." slipped out of his mouth, before he could stop himself and think about it.
So, just like every other day, Ryan was sitting in the small café that was stuffed with loads of books, a small amount of employees and an even smaller amount of customers.
The tea sitting in front of him had already started to cool down, as Ryan was still scribbling poetic words that no one else would understand into his little notebook. Sometimes he would look up from his work, checking his surroundings, maybe giving the barista, his longtime friend named Jon a small, sweet smile.
Jon was the only person left in his life, never leaving his side. Jon stood by him, when no one else would, walked with him, when no one wanted to catch the oh so feared 'gay virus' in catholic highschool. Hell, he even stood up for Ryan, when his dad was insulting him once again. Ryan was thankful, that Jon didn't get the beating he got after doing something as crazy as that.
Ryan used to like living, he used to like doing things with his teenage friends, but that was before the whole school found out about his sexuality. Everything had gone downhill from there on. Sure, there were a few 'allies' as Ryan would call them now, but the cuts that all the bullies made were too deep to be healed by simple words from the only people he had left.
That was in the past now, but Ryan still hadn't begun to start living properly again. Even after graduation, everything felt numb to him. Even number, now, that his dad practically died from drinking the alcohol Ryan despised. He despised it because of his dad and because he didn't want to become like his dad.
Ryans fear of becoming the way the man that made half of his life a living hell was always present, even if Ryan was never really aware of it.
That didn't matter anymore, as Ryans father was dead now. Six feet underground. Ryan didn't cry at the funeral, he didn't. His tears weren't worth to be spilled over an alcoholic asshole. A week later though, it all caught up to him. He cried, he cried and he wouldn't stop until his shirt was soaked and there were no tears left to be spilled.
The man had been his father after all and even if he ruined Ryans teenage years, his childhood had been filled with love. Until his mother left his father and her disappointment of a son and his father started drinking.
But Ryan wasn't thinking about that while he was sitting in his favourite café, no. He was thinking about the brownhaired boy with soft lips and a wide nose. He was thinking about how he had bumped into him that morning and apologized about 15 dozen times, thin frame shaking, before scurrying off, leaving the boy probably wondering what a weirdo like him was doing out in the cold morning air.
Ryan was actually just trying to get to his favourite café and get himself a tea, which was now complete cold.
Speaking of the devil, the door of the café opened and Ryan looked up as he would usually, not expecting the sight to be someone so familiar. Happiness was literally radiating off the brown haired boy and his smile was directed to Ryan.
He was holding a small piece of paper in his hands which Ryan found to be awfully familiar.
"I think that this is yours?", the boy said in a questioning tone, waving the paper in Ryan's direction as he was walking over to the table Ryan was sitting at.
