Infinite, sometimes

12

Ryan was busy trying to find words and put them in order to form coherent questions. He knew he wasn't going to get all the answers he wanted in one small move. Brendon had not taken much time to acquaint himself with Ryan's room before he was drawn to Ryan's extensive, alphabetized music collection. He shook his damp hair with his hand while a finger on his other hand traced up and down the rows of albums. He carefully noted each artist, feeling more and more at ease each time he recognized one of his favorites. Brendon didn't notice any that he didn't like.
"Bren, what happened?"
Brendon was quiet for about five seconds before he pulled Ryan's copy of Downward Spiral off of the rack. "Can we listen?"
"Yeah, of course." Ryan took the case and popped the disk into his computer. "You like Nine Inch Nails?"
Brendon nodded. "Track fourteen if you... don't care." Brendon's voice was caught in his throat and he stumbled to finish his sentence.
"No, no, it's a beautiful song."
"It is." Brendon took the pillow off of Ryan's bed and sat down on the floor, quickly laying down on his stomach. He folded his arms and rested them on the pillow, burying his face in the bit of pillow that was exposed inside the circle created by his arms. He focused on the song as it blared out of Ryan's computer and he allowed Trent's voice to dominate his ears.
Ryan turned up the volume as loud as he could without causing the speakers to distort the sound. He opened up his journal client and typed quickly, wanting to make a permanent memory of his thoughts but not wanting to waste too much time focusing on himself.

Yeah, so, here goes nothing. Oh hell, what am I saying, it's everything. Absolutely everything. I don't think I've killed this yet. It's time to keep it alive.
I want this to be okay.
It's not a job. I want this.
--RR

Ryan stood up and stepped over his friend to make it to the door. He silently pushed it shut and he was sure to turn the lock, gripping it with his fingers and turning it as hard as he could to assure himself that it would never be opened. He wasn't sure who he was trying to be quiet for as he brought himself to the ground, since he wanted Brendon to be aware of his every move. Ryan laid down on his side and stole the edge of his pillow to rest his elbow on and he propped his head up with his hand, pressing his ear into his head.
"Wanna talk now?"
Brendon shook his head and carefully moved his hand to under his face. He moved it around a bit before returning it to its original position. Silently, he breathed, his back slowly rising and falling, almost in rhythm with the words that fell out of the speakers.
Ryan waited until Brendon exhaled to lay his hand on the boy's back. His arm followed the rise and fall effortlessly, creating circles, small at first, gradually growing to trace Brendon's body from just under his neck to just above the waist of his jeans. His shirt was damp from the rain that now fell heavily. Ryan could hear it slamming into the roof, even with the song playing. He tuned it out and listened to the music to try to understand why Brendon wanted that particular song, although Ryan's heart continued to sink because he didn't really have to wonder why. The lyrics spoke for themselves, and Ryan stared at the side of Brendon's head. He didn't bother to ask for what he really wanted, to see his friend's face, because he knew it was fastened to the pillow and it would take an army to rip them apart. He was not sure if he was ready for that kind of battle. Listening to Hurt had always made Ryan feel many things, but it never made him feel quite like this.
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
Ryan was glad that he had put the song on repeat. He wanted this to last as long as it needed to. Brendon's back was growing warmer from the constant friction of Ryan's hand tracing the same path for what seemed like forever, or at least almost two repetitions of the song. Ryan was in such a trance from the combination of the music and Brendon's pattern of slow breathing, and he was jolted from his daze when he realized that this pattern had changed in almost an instant after several minutes of stagnancy. Ryan first noticed the movements of his hand that was still gliding across Brendon's back. His hand had begun to move with the slight shaking of Brendon's body, shaking that would grow and subside with each breath that the boy took. Ryan's eyes were drawn to his hand, but he quickly looked up to Brendon's head in what was a natural reaction to the expectation of sound.
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
It was sudden. Brendon was not just sifting though his thoughts like Ryan had wanted to believe. He had been pouring them over himself so much that it had started to tear him down. For the first time, even after he had spent so much time in Brendon's place in the past, Ryan did not know what to do. But it hit him. He knew why Brendon wanted this song.
"I'm not going away, Bren." He knew his hand had become useless on Brendon's warm back. He closed his eyes and let his arm fall. He rested his head on his upper arm and the rest of his arm curved around the top of the pillow, and he let his fingers land on top of Brendon's forearm just above his wrist. His other hand moved up from Brendon's back to the boy's head and he used his index finger to comb through his hair. He slowly twirled small chunks of hair around his finger, occasionally, and he dragged his finger back and forth along the back and side of Brendon's head. Ryan's eyes drifted shut but he never stopped moving his finger through Brendon's hair. It was the last thing that Ryan knew he could allow himself to do to try to fix things, and although Brendon was shaking more and sobbing under the volume of the music, Ryan hoped that he was having some kind of positive effect.
Ryan's eyes remained closed. "I'm trying, Bren. I promise. And mine are never empty." He developed a pattern. It felt safe to him, keeping the same paths through Brendon's hair. He flinched when his sense of touch suddenly started to relay different information. He felt something smooth and warm and he opened his eyes to see that Brendon had lifted his head and turned to face him. His finger now rested on the corner of Brendon's eye, with the rest of his fingers folded against his palm and brushing against Brendon's nose. He was startled and frozen when his eyes met with Brendon's wet gaze. Breathing barely enough to take in enough oxygen, Ryan let his finger slowly fall. On its way down, it gently ran over Brendon's face, tracing his cheekbone, down to the side of his nose, and Ryan clenched his teeth together as his finger danced gracefully over the corner of Brendon's mouth. Ryan didn't remember a time where it was so easy for him to make eye contact. His hand finally rested on Brendon's arm in a loose fist, just in front of Brendon's face. It felt like nothing could break the connection between their eyes and Ryan hoped that his eyes were able to say words that his mouth was not able to come up with.
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
Brendon moved his head forward and laid his lips against Ryan's hand. Ryan shivered with the feeling of warm breath being draped across his fingers each time Brendon exhaled. If he could have stopped time and lived forever in one single moment, this would have been it. Ryan left his hand frozen in place as he pushed himself closer to Brendon, who moved back slightly to allow Ryan's head to have half of the pillow. Their eyes never separated.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bren."
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
"I...I want you to talk to me."
Brendon closed his eyes and pressed his lips harder against Ryan's hand, which muffled his voice slightly. "I want to hear something from you."
"I'll say anything."
"Tell me she's wrong."
"About what?"
"I need to hear it from you."
"Bren please tell me what to say."
"But I want you to mean it, Ryan."
"Brendon please... what happened?"
"She was home when I got there."
"Fuck."
"The school called her to make sure I got home okay."
Ryan closed his eyes and he forced back the tears that he knew his friend didn't need to see. "Fucking hell." He knew his distress was evident in his voice, but he was unable to hide it.
"Tell me she's wrong."
"About what, Bren?"
"Tell me I'm not going to be a complete failure." Brendon tore his arm out from under the small tangle of their bodies and he gripped Ryan's hand to keep himself from falling too far. He slipped his own thumb in between his lips, unsure of what he was trying to accomplish.
Ryan squeezed back with his fingers. Brendon's hand was on top of his, with his fingers laced through Ryan's, and all Ryan could do was squeeze his fingers together to hold Brendon's fingers in place. "That's the biggest lie I have ever heard, Bren."
"It's all she said from the time I got home until I left."
"Why didn't you come sooner?"
"I don't know. I didn't leave until she made me."
"She made you leave?"
"She said I disappointed her almost more than Seth ever has and she didn't want to see me for the rest of the night."
Ryan spoke sweetly and tried to act like everything was normal, trying to pay no attention to Brendon's shaky, pained voice and the tears that were soaking his face. "But I want to see you. Everything's fine, okay?"
"She fucking hates me, Ryan. All she did was yell."
"But I don't hate you."
"She's never said she didn't want to see me. It's never happened before, Ry."
"Just let her calm down, Hun—Brendon, just let her calm down." Ryan's face turned a warm red, but Brendon was too upset to notice.
"She wouldn't even let me explain."
"What would you have said?"
"I don't even know. I just want to be something, and every time she yells, I know there's no way it can happen."
"Why's that?"
"She won't let it."
"How is she keeping you from it, though?"
"She will fucking kill me when I say I'm not going to college."
"What do you want to do with your life?" Ryan awkwardly positioned his free hand to wipe Brendon's cheek.
"All I do is write. Songs, mostly. So, music, really... I guess it's the only thing I really want to do. I just want to be something."
"And you don't think your parents will like that?"
"No fucking way. Everything I lie to them about revolves around school and getting ready for college. I bullshit everything because it makes them happy. They're convinced that I am basically the president of the entire school with all the shit they think I do there, and when I took classes over the summer, they thought it was so I could graduate early and get through college quicker."
"Why did you take summer school?"
"To get the fuck out of there as soon as I could. That's why I'm in senior history. I'm all set to graduate this year. I've managed to keep my grades almost completely fucking perfect so they couldn't bitch about that, but I'm running out of lies, Ryan. I have a box of about twenty notebooks full of everything I have written in the past four years, and they know nothing about it."
"What do you write about?"
"Everything."
"I write too, Bren. Random stuff, mostly. But I like it."
"What are you doing after graduation?"
"I want to go into journalism, actually. But I'll probably just take classes at the community college so I can stay here. It should be pretty easy, I think."
"I'm going to have to tell them soon. I can't keep it up any more."
"Is this why they don't let you do anything on school nights?"
"They think I'll fuck up my grades."
"So you tell them you have stuff to do with groups at school in order to get out?"
"Yeah. They're so goddamn oblivious, I swear. As long as I mention school, they are happy."
"Do you want to make them happy?"
"That's all I really want... I hate hearing about what a disappointment I am every fucking time that I do something that makes me a goddamn human."
"I'm not disappointed in you, though."
"I figured everyone was."
"No. You knew something was wrong, and you did what you needed to do for yourself to fix it. I'm proud of you for that. I'm glad you knew to come here instead of sit at home and ruin yourself."
"I just wanted to talk to you."
"I wanted to talk to you too. What's your brother's problem, anyway? It seems like your parents are so goddamn hard on you, and they couldn't care less about what that asshole does."
"I really like this song, Ry."
"I know. I like it too."
"There's so much in it."
"Why do you like it so much?"
"Because it's true."
"I wish it wasn't."
"I don't want it to be."
"Bren?"
"Yeah?"
"Why do you like my hand so much?"
"It's the only one I've ever been able to hold."
"Oh."
"It's safe."
"You're safe, you know."
"Yes." Brendon took his thumb away from his lips and used his entire hand to grip Ryan's. He wasn't able to find enough words to thank his friend.
"I want you to talk to me."
"I am."
"Then stop dodging questions."
"I'm not."
"You are, Bren. You got away with it earlier, but not anymore. If you don't want to talk about something, say it. Tell me you don't want to talk about it. Changing the subject just tells me you want to talk, but you're scared."
"...No?" Brendon started to turn his face away again, but he settled on just closing his eyes.
"You shouldn't be scared now, Bren. Not when I'm here."
"I'm not scared."
"Then just talk to me, Bren."
Brendon was silent for about half a minute, aside from loud, spaced, wet inhalations.
"You don't know how much I want to help you."
"This is really hard for me, Ry."
"How?"
"I'm so... I don't know, I'm not used to this."
"I know it's strange but it's not supposed to be scary. You're okay here, Bren."
"Can I stay here tonight?"
Ryan was suddenly torn. Nights like this, he usually found himself staying with Spencer. He started to feel the fear that Brendon was feeling, but he had to put himself past it. "Of course you can, anytime... but your parents, they're not gonna care?"
"My mom said she didn't want to see me. You said you wanted to. It's not a hard choice to make, really."
Ryan managed a smile and he loosened his hand from their mutual grasp. He brought it to Brendon's back but didn't move it around. Instead, he moved his finger up and down, back and forth, around the same few inches a small distance below Brendon's neck. "You like this, Bren?"
Brendon closed his eyes and nodded. "I want your hand, though." His voice sounded small and ashamed.
"It's okay." Ryan finished rubbing and he held his hand out for Brendon in the same place where it had been before. Brendon smiled contently and Ryan instinctively smiled as well. "It stimulates the touch receptors under the skin. Fingers are extremely sensitive, you know... touch is such a big part of our lives, it helps us... we depend on it so much, you know. Everything we do, really."
Brendon's eyes opened and he lowered his brow, confused.
"The touching, it releases all kinds of chemicals that make us feel... relaxed, I guess. Our hands touch, but it all happens in the brain. It's why babies like to be held... if you don't touch them, if you just feed them and let them lay there, they'll die. They need touch to survive."
"What do you mean?"
"Close your eyes."
Brendon complied.
"Now if I wasn't talking and you couldn't hear me breathing, how would you know I'm here?"
"I'm holding your hand."
"You can feel me, right?"
Brendon nodded.
"Your brain reacts to your sense of touch and the chemicals tell you that it feels good. I think that's why you like it."
"I think I like it because it feels safe." Brendon took their latched hands and held them under his chin. Ryan could feel his voice in his throat as he spoke. "I don't care about science right now. I just care about this."
"I'm not going away. Just know that."
"I do." Brendon pressed his lips against Ryan's hand again, holding them there for several seconds. "I don't like talking about Seth, Ry. Or anything else, really, but it's easier with you."
"I'm glad I don't make it harder."
"He should have graduated last year."
"Was he held back?"
"In eighth grade."
"What did your parents do?"
"They expected it, I guess. He was such a pain in the ass that they kind of quit trying at that point. They just decided to focus on making sure I didn't fuck up." Brendon stretched a little and turned onto his back, keeping Ryan's hand securely in his own.
Ryan followed, but he paused for a moment. He let go of Brendon's hand and he leaned over the boy in order to reach the computer. "I'm just turning it down." Ryan had stopped counting after the song had played five times, but he never grew tired of hearing it. He laid down on his back and he didn't have to search far before he found Brendon's hand and laced their fingers together. "Have you ever gotten along with him?"
"When we were little. I'm not sure what happened. He started being a dick when I was about ten and then my parents just kinda stopped talking to me about him after he failed school. They just kept saying "he's not right" and they kept telling me that they were proud of me."
"When did they start treating you like they do now?"
"Right away. I didn't care for a few years because I actually liked being with them all the time. I mean, they're my parents, and I was a kid... they treated me well, really, aside from the yelling to get me to do shit, and I liked them until I started wanting some time to myself. I didn't start hating it until I wanted to have some friends sometimes and they started freaking out."
"Why don't they want you to have friends?"
"I have no idea. Probably 'cause they couldn't laugh at me for being alone or some shit like that."
"I guess I just don't understand it."
"And you think I do?" Brendon snapped and his voice was sharper and quicker than it had ever been.
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's... you're fine."
"No, it's not my life to get upset about. It shouldn't bother me this much."
"I know it's weird."
"You just want things to be normal, huh?"
"Of course, but it's not happening. Although maybe, I don't know... after today, I think I let them down so much that they're going to give up on me like they did with my brother."
"I won't give up."
"You might regret that later."
"Brendon, don't ever say that again."
Brendon turned his head away from Ryan.
"You know, I regret a lot of shit in my life. There's so much that I wish I could just erase, but I can't, and you're not going to be one of those things, do you understand me?"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, Bren. It took me a long time to realize that I'm not worthless. But Spencer and Ellen never stopped talking to me, you know? If they gave up, I probably wouldn't have made it."
"I'm glad they're good friends."
"They really are."
"Ryan?"
"Yes?"
"They told me a lot about you."
Ryan laughed. "Oh God. How could you possibly want to talk to me now, then?"
"I wanted to back then, too. I just knew I couldn't do anything with how my parents were."
"I was such a mess. I hate to think about it. If I were you, I'd never want to talk to me, knowing some of the shit that went on with me."
"It sounded so familiar, Ry. I mean, it was different situations, but the actual feelings... I really wanted to talk to you. It seemed like we were really alike, you know? They got so worried about you toward the end of last school year. It was horrible."
"How so?"
"You're not mad at them for telling me all this?"
"Of course not. They wouldn't tell someone they didn't trust."
"Ellen would sit at lunch and cry, just talking about how her and Spence didn't know how to keep from losing you... you really scared them, Ry. They love you so much."
Ryan's mind started to flash back to the times when he knew he was hurting his friends, and he had to stop the thoughts before they brought him down. "They love me too much. They put up with me being like that for years, Bren... people just don't care about other people like that. They're amazing."
"Honestly, Ryan, they probably told me more than you would think. But I'd like to hear it from you, you know... just to hear it from you. Your voice still feels nice."
Ryan was in mid smile when the bedroom door broke the calmness with the sharpest, echoing crack. Ryan's instincts kicked in and he threw his hand over the back of his head without even letting go of Brendon's hand. "Get your goddamn clothes out of the goddamn dryer."
"I will."
"Like hell you will. You say that every fucking time."
"I will."
Ryan couldn't make out what his dad mumbled as he walked away. His body shook with each heavy beat of his heart, the way it always did whenever he was suddenly scared. Sometimes his heart pounded enough to make his body shake the bed. Brendon didn't say anything for a long time. Since his hand was already around Ryan's head, he pulled his friend closer and rested his lips against Ryan's forehead. They laid there motionless except for the earthshaking pounding of Ryan's heart, their hands still locked and against the back of Ryan's head.
Brendon whispered. "Why does he yell like that, Ryan?"
"Because he hates his life." He pulled back and let go of Brendon's hand, quickly running his hand over his friend's shoulder. He finally let Brendon see his glassy eyes, the only sign that he was letting himself slip a little more than he should, and he pushed himself up. "I need to get my laundry. I'll be right back."
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not."
"Yes I am. Don't even tell me I'm not, because you're going to have to fucking hit me in order to make me stay here. Now, what do you feel like doing?"
Ryan gave Brendon an angrier glare than he really should have. "Do whatever you want, but don't get mad at me when he yells. He doesn't know how wrong it is, Bren. You need to see him in the morning when he's not like this."
"Whatever. I'm coming with you."
They headed down the hallway and past Ryan's dad's lighted bedroom and Ryan made it to the dryer, pulling out several warm articles of clothing. It wasn't much, and Brendon forced the clothes out of Ryan's arms. "Just let me."
Ryan didn't want to argue. The hallway was dark except for light from the two bedrooms and Ryan went against his better judgment and entered his father's room, leaving a rather concerned Brendon standing in the doorway. "I got my clothes. You can use the dryer now."
"I don't need the goddamn dryer. I just didn't want your shit in there for the next week."
Ryan kept himself calm despite his father's loud voice. "Well, it's empty now. You should probably get some rest." He put a shaky arm around his father's shoulders and brought him in for a hug, but the man stood rigid. Ryan was too used to this. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"When will you wise the fuck up, Kid?"
"What now, Dad?"
"Don't you 'what now' me, you little son of a bitch!" Ryan barely had time to close his eyes before the back of his father's flattened hand connected with his face. He fell back into the wall and kept his face pointed to the floor, protected by his hands. "I'm sick of your bullshit, Ryan. Get out of here."
Ryan pushed Brendon toward his bedroom, and he slammed the door behind himself before he locked it. The heavy pressure in his nose burnt and stung and hurt his mouth, making his eyes water. It felt like the center of his face was going to explode and he swore he could almost smell the pain. He refused to cry.
Ryan sat down on his bed. Brendon had thrown the clothes to the floor and he knelt in front of Ryan, much more frantic than Ryan was. "Ry... you..." Brendon was too upset to form anything that resembled a sentence.
"I'm okay." Ryan forced his words out from between his clenched teeth. His nose throbbed and burnt and it almost hurt to breathe.
"What the fuck... what is wrong with him?"
"Just hold on, Bren. Please."
Brendon climbed onto the bed and pulled Ryan against his chest as tightly as his little arms would let him. "What can I do?"
"Just wait." Ryan was used to spending these times alone where he wasn't afraid to let himself cry. It would usually be at least twenty minutes until he would get to Spencer. His hand cupped his face and he pressed against his cheeks as hard as he could to focus the pain to another part of his face.
"Let me see you, Ry." Ryan gave in. He closed his eyes and looked up, letting Brendon move his hand away. Brendon ran his thumb under Ryan's nose. "I don't think its bleeding."
"It never does, Bren. It just hurts like hell. But he never breaks anything."
Brendon had started rocking back and forth without even noticing. "Will he yell anymore?"
"I doubt it. He'll lay down and we won't hear from him until morning."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Brendon's eyes traced Ryan's face. His face was red and he could tell his eyes were ready to burst, and Brendon was terrified. There was too much screaming and too much pain. He didn't know how to handle the situation.
"Give me your hand, Bren. I'm okay." Ryan took Brendon's hand and held it in his lap. "I'm used to this, you know."
"Yeah. I do... I'm sorry."
"How much did they tell you?"
"A lot."
"I really love him, Bren."
"How? I know it sounds bad, I'm sorry..."
"It's okay. I know he's not like this. This isn't him. It's what he drinks, Bren. Right now, this isn't the guy that makes me coffee and breakfast in the morning, who hugs me and says he loves me... that person over there, it's not my dad. It never has been. The asshole in there is just the guy who comes home from work every night."
"It happens a lot, doesn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I just wish I knew how to forgive people like you do."
"It's just... he's my dad, I don't know. I'm just so afraid to lose him."
"How would you lose him?"
"I don't know, I'm just scared. After we yell a lot and he does shit, he just breathes so hard... he gets so mad and goes to bed and I'm just afraid his heart's going to explode or something, I dont know, he's not ancient but he's older and I just think he could give himself a heart attack or a stroke or... something..."
"I'm sorry."
Ryan shook his head. "After every time we fight or whatever, and he goes to bed... I just listen for him snoring, and if I can't hear it, I stand by the door and try to hear just anything from him or I try to see his chest moving up and down while he breathes... I've put my hand under his nose before just to make sure he's still breathing. I don't know, Bren. I just worry about him so much and I think if I lose him, I'll just lose everything..."
Brendon sensed that Ryan was already starting to worry, and he squeezed Ryan's fingers as the boy's hand was wrapped around his own. "Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you tell me what your mom's like?"
Ryan stood up and walked to the closet to pull at the first long sleeved shirt that he could see. "She's a good mother, really. She's pretty cool. Here, put this on. It's nice and dry, and your shirt's... not."
Brendon took the shirt and held it against his chest. "They told me that she left."
"She moved across town for a bit. She didn't really want to leave. Put that on, Bren. I'm gonna get food." Ryan opened his door and headed toward the kitchen.
Brendon stayed on the bed, examining the shirt. It was fairly big, enough for him to hide in, he assumed. A worn Blink-182 logo was visible in the corner. He smelled it. He might as well have had Ryan against his nose, and it was refreshing. He tossed his own shirt to the floor just as Ryan entered the room with a box of cereal under his arm and a can of Mountain Dew in his other hand. "I don't really feel like cooking tonight."
Ryan sat everything down and looked at Brendon's body. Brendon looked at the floor, feeling almost violated, somewhat scared, mostly ashamed. Ryan couldn't focus for long on the perfection of Brendon's chest without noticing two large bruises, one on the top left side of his chest, the other in the center of Brendon's stomach. Ryan felt sick. He walked closer and his hand reached toward the blue blotch that was higher up, but Brendon took his hand instead, holding it up to his own cheek. It was a random move and he didn't feel entirely comfortable about it, but Ryan's cold hand felt good on his warm face. "Ryan, it's me."
"You did this?"
"Yes."
"They didn't do it?"
"They'd never touch me. I'm sorry, but they would never do that."
"Don't be sorry for that. Why did you do it?"
"I'm not even sure." Brendon quickly put on the shirt Ryan gave him and he brought his arms up into the long sleeves, bunching the ends of the sleeves up in the palms of his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"That you have to do that."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I'm sorry that you feel like that."
"Do you ever miss any of it, Ryan?"
Ryan tossed a couple pieces of cereal into his mouth. "I don't know. I miss how it made me feel, I guess. Sometimes. But that's the extent of it. It'll never happen again."
"But what about what just happened? You said it happens a lot... you still don't want to do anything?"
"No. It's not worth it, Bren. I hope you realize that someday. It's hard, though. I know."
"You're really strong, Ry." Brendon took two handfuls of cereal and ate as quickly as he could.
"What?"
"You're strong. You didn't even cry when he hit you."
Ryan didn't want to mention how close he had been. "I know he didn't mean it."
"You're the strongest person I know, Ryan."
"I think you could be strong."
"No."
"Don't say that. You just need to stand up for yourself. Nobody ever taught you how to do that, I'm assuming."
"I couldn't do it anyway."
"You never tried." Ryan took a break from shoveling food into his mouth after he realized that they had cleared out half of the box. "I'm not going to sit here and tell you to just do something to change yourself. A lot of other people would, but I know it's not that easy."
"Why did your mom leave, exactly?"
"She got sick of how my dad is."
"Couldn't you go with her?"
"She wanted me to. I just didn't want to give up on my dad, you know? Back when all this happened, when she left, I was really fucked up. It was toward the end of the school year, like you said, when Spence and El were really worried. She came home from work one Friday and just said, 'Okay, until you can at least admit that you need help, I'm leaving and Ryan is coming with me.' So I just said no, I was old enough to decide on my own." Ryan handed Brendon the box of cereal and he stretched out on the bed with his back against the wall. Brendon handed him the pillow and he took it, holding it against his chest instead of putting it under his head. "She didn't think I'd be safe here and I said I didn't care; I didn't want to give up on my dad because if we both gave up on him then he would never get better. But I was such a mess then, and I was for so long before that... the first night she was gone, my dad stayed in bed, and for some reason I locked myself in here and laid in the middle of the floor."
"Spencer said he came over that night." Brendon had knelt down beside the bed, folding his arms and resting them along with his chin on top of the mattress. He tried to show Ryan how closely he was paying attention, but it just came across as an obsessive, fascinated gaze into his eyes that made Ryan blush.
"He did. It was just him, El couldn't make it. He came over and it was the first time I had seen him cry since we were little." It was also the last time Ryan had seen him cry. "He was more upset than I was, I think. I guess I was just kind of numb, and I kept telling myself, 'She's coming back,' because she said she would... she said they weren't getting a divorce, that she loved my dad, she just wanted to make him get help."
"Did he tell you why he was so upset?"
"I don't think he really did... I guess I don't really remember. He just kept saying the same things over and over, about not wanting this to happen to me or whatever. Like I said, I was kind of out of it that night."
"He told me about it that next Monday."
"What did he say?"
"He was so scared, Ry. He knew how you hadn't been doing well at all before that, and when all this happened with your mom, he didn't think he was going to be able to help you enough. He thought it was just gonna be too much for you, and he was... he was just scared for you."
"I love that kid so much."
"Do you think your mom will come back, Ry?"
"I hope. Come here." Ryan put the pillow under his head and pushed himself harder against the wall. He was unable to move back farther, but his actions gave the illusion of creating more room.
"Do you have any shorts I can wear or anything? I don't want to sleep in my jeans."
"Yeah, actually... should be some in the closet there."
Brendon pushed some stacks of clothes over before turning around with a pair of shorts identical to the ones Ryan was wearing. "These good?"
"Yeah that's fine." Ryan looked at his rather uninteresting bedroom door as Brendon nervously removed his pants and jumped into the shorts. "My mom's lease is up in November. I'm hoping I can get through to my dad before then because I just want everything to be fine again."
Brendon felt awkward with nothing to say. "I can just sleep down here... are there any extra blankets or anything? I don't need a pillow, I'm so tired that I just want to get warm and go to sleep."
Ryan hoped this moment wouldn't come. "Bren, I kind of want you to sleep up here."
"No, I'm not stealing your bed. That's rude. I'm fine on the floor."
"You're not stealing it though."
Brendon exhaled and stared at Ryan, not sure of what he was trying to get at.
"Bren, please just lay down. I need to tell you something."
Brendon sat down on the bottom edge of the bed and looked at Ryan. "Everything okay?"
"When I have nights like this, I usually go stay with Spence. This is just kind of weird right now."
"Oh."
"I never stay here after my dad freaks out."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here... I can try going home or something, it's not a problem."
"No, Bren, I want us to stay. But I'm only doing it because you're here. If you weren't here, I would leave."
"I'm sorry, is that... good?"
Ryan nodded. "It's just weird not being on Spencer's couch. Usually, he'll sit with me until I fall asleep, or his mom will. She's awesome, you know." He laid down onto his back and locked his hands together on top of his stomach.
"Why do they do that?"
"Could I just get you to take my word for it and lay with me? It's not my most favorite subject, it's late, and I'm tired."
"I'll lay down. But you made me talk, so it's only fair that I make you talk."
"I know it's a small bed, but it works. At least we're safe, right?"
"Yes. And now you're the one changing the subject. Ry, what's wrong?" Brendon laid down on his left side and folded his arm under his head, resting it near his elbow. His right hand took Ryan's hand off of his stomach and he held it against the pillow, in front of his face. He stared at Ryan's ear and the side of his face while he waited for him to talk.
"It's hard for me to get to sleep."
"How so?"
"I just get these dreams, Bren."
"Bad, I'm guessing?"
"It's worse than that. I can't describe it."
"I can try to help... I don't know how, but it doesn't mean I can't try."
"It happens when I start to fall asleep. When I'm not awake anymore, but still awake enough to not be totally asleep, does that make sense?"
"Do you just kind of freeze? Like, you can't move at all, and everything's... I don't know, vivid and scary?"
"Uh, yeah, actually..." Ryan looked at Brendon and unknowingly squeezed his hand.
Brendon nodded. "It's called sleep paralysis. I've read about it before. It sounds awful."
"It's... hell, really..."
"It's never happened to me, but I can just imagine how bad it is."
"I can fix it if I can just make myself move. Like, physically, I have to jump or shake enough to wake myself up, but it's so hard because my body's completely paralyzed, you know?"
"Do you know what causes it?"
"My mind hating me, I guess. Or God. Sometimes I really know I'm not his favorite person."
"It's your body's defense mechanism against REM sleep. You know, when you're dreaming, when your eyes move around to follow what you see in your head... your brain paralyzes your body, so you can't act out your dreams."
"But this happens before I even completely fall asleep."
"Nobody really knows why it happens. I'm sorry I can't answer it, I... this is all I really know. I don't know why some people's minds seem to work so differently. Do you get the hallucinations when it happens? A lot of people do."
Ryan turned over to face the wall, abruptly letting go of Brendon's hand. "Yes and I don't want to say any more, Bren. Really, yes, they happen, and it is fucking awful. Don't make me describe it."
"Calm down, Ry. I won't do that to you. I've read enough stories to scare me for a lifetime." Brendon started to slowly run his hand up and down Ryan's side. He didn't know what else to do other than what Ryan had done for him.
Ryan hoped that he had been able to make Brendon feel this good earlier. "It's the only thing I can't get rid of."
"Hmm?"
"Everything else, all the shit, I've been able to get over it and move past it. But this... fuck, no matter how happy I am, it's always waiting for me at night. Some nights it's not that bad, but fuck, there's nothing I can do to stop it when I've been able to get rid of everything else."
"Your mind can be your biggest enemy sometimes."
"If I'm gonna sleep here tonight, I can't lay here alone. I can call Spencer if I need to, it's fine."
"No, Ryan. I'm gonna stay up here. I didn't know you wanted me to, so I thought I'd stay on the floor and not take up much room. But if you want me here, I'll stay."
"I just wanna get away from it somehow."
"I don't blame you." Brendon's hand was still running up and down Ryan's side, wandering, confused about where to turn next.
"Everything seems so real, then. Even more real than it does now. I can feel things. It feels like it's pulling me off the bed and whatever I do I can't make it let go of me. And everything is so goddamn loud... I hear so many things and I know none of them are real, but it's hard to believe that when it's so loud that my ears ring when I finally wake up." Ryan grabbed Brendon's hand and dug his fingertips into his palm. "I'm so glad this doesn't happen to you. I could be up against my own death and the fear wouldn't be as bad as it is when I try to sleep."
"I know it's bad, but you've put up with so much other shit... I know you can live with this. It can make you stronger, if that's even possible, I... Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad we can be friends."
"I am too."
"I still need you, you know."
"You know I need you too, right?"
"Yes. I hope you do."
"Don't worry about my dad. The door's locked, and besides, he won't get up before morning."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Do you want to turn off the music?"
"Do you?"
"Will it make you happy if we let it play all night?"
"Yeah."
"Then let it be." Ryan turned his head and studied Brendon's face. He licked his lips and inhaled. "I..." He swallowed. "Goodnight, Bren."
"Night."
Brendon let go of Ryan's hand and turned around to face the rest of the room, his back pressed completely against Ryan's. Under the blanket, their feet touched, but neither of them bothered to move. The blanket was pulled up far and tucked under each of their chins. Ryan bent his right elbow and it rested on Brendon's side as he searched for his friend's hand. Brendon knew what to do. He put his left arm underneath Ryan's arm and took Ryan's hand, holding it with both of his own. The tips of the fingers on his right hand glided across Ryan's skin until he was too tired to move. Brendon fell asleep thinking that he might have finally found out what home was supposed to feel like.
Ryan was only slightly used to being with someone as he fell asleep. Spencer knew to stay with him, but he usually left once he knew that Ryan was okay. Ryan felt a whole new sense of life knowing that he would not be left in the night. Brendon's hand had the power to hold every demon back, to keep them from invading his dreams, what was supposed to be Ryan's unchanging escape from reality. For the first time since childhood, Ryan just fell asleep. There was no fear, no uncontrollable tears, no pushing or pulling or inability to move and break free. But Ryan didn't need to move; there was nothing to free himself from. With Brendon, he simply fell asleep, unaware of anything that existed outside the confines of his bedroom. At that moment, Ryan knew happiness.