Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

New Normal

Brendon was having some sort of breakdown. Not a physical one like Ryan had last week. This was something different. Something purely emotional.

He didn't get up from bed at all that day. Not to shower. Not go outside. Not even to eat. He just laid there under his blanket and cried. At least he wasn't a loud crier. Ryan only heard the occasional sniffle from him.

No matter how much Ryan tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, it did. What could make such a happy person snap like that? If he had to guess, he'd assume it had to do with that fiancé he was always bragging about. The giant probably cheated on him or something.

Well, if that was true, the guy was an idiot.

Not that it was any of his business. Not that he actually cared what happened to the guy. He was just tired of him moping. He was annoying enough when he was bouncing off the walls with excitement. He was even more annoying when he was wasn't, if that made sense.

Subconsciously Ryan knew it made no sense at all. He should be happy he was getting a break from the constant positivity. But how the hell could he be happy when Brendon so clearly wasn't? He wanted to see him smile that annoying smile. Or obnoxiously laugh at something that wasn't remotely funny. It was their thing. Brendon was always smiling and he was always frowning. It's what he'd become accustomed to. His new normal.

It almost felt like an obligation to help him. He owed him that much. Brendon did it for him when he was feeling down. It was only fair. That's why he was doing this. It had nothing to do with anything else. He didn't like him or anything stupid like that. That Patrick guy was an idiot.

Ryan wasn't good at emotions. He couldn't give Brendon any advice on how to deal with heartbreak. He couldn't hug him and make him feel better because physical contact with emotional people made him uncomfortable. Not only was he not good at emotions, he wasn't good at anything. Beside maybe music.

His eyes darted to the guitar in the corner of the room. The one his father dropped in after Ryan skipped on visiting day last week. He walked over, lifting it up by the neck. It would be weird for them both to be in the same bed again. So instead Ryan sat on the floor. Clearing his throat to get his attention.

The blankets slid away from his head slowly. Revealing his red rimmed eyes. The shock in them made Ryan feel bad. Was it so surprising that he'd try to speak to his own roommate?

"Hey." He forced a smile. Brendon didn't look convinced.

"Hi." His voice was deep but hoarse. Completely different from it's usual sound. It made Ryan's breath hitch.

"I-um." Ryan closed his mouth and inhaled through his nose. "You're sad." Brendon didn't say anything so Ryan continued. "I can play guitar."

He wiped the moisture from the tip of his nose and frowned. "So."

"I can maybe play you a song to make you feel better."

His lips pressed tightly together. The frown was gone but with no expression to replace it. Damnit, he knew he wasn't going to be good at this. He should have left him to grieve. He squeezed the neck of the guitar. Lifting his chin to hide his embarrassment.

"You know what? Forget it." He moved to stand up.

"Wait." Brendon's hand brushed against his knee and he froze. "I want to hear you play."

"No you don't."

"Yeah, I do."

"Whatever." Ryan rose to his knees.