Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

Science

Brendon thought he was pretty.

Ryan had been called a lot of things since he'd been forced into this facility. Most of the things being asshole, liar, dickhead, bastard and a few other colorful insults he'd rather not think back on. But being called pretty, that was new. And this may come as a shock, but he'd rather be called the latter over the others any day.

He leaned over the bathroom sink. Bringing himself closer to his own reflection. Trying to find the parts of his face that could qualify as pretty. His eyes were kind of nice. Sometimes. Well, when he got enough sleep. And his hair was sort of impressive when he brushed it. He'd gotten compliments on his lips in the past. But most of those compliments came from drug dealers or addicts trying to get on his good side.

It wasn't that Ryan didn't like his face. He knew he was an attractive man. He'd used his looks to his advantage on many occasions. But he'd never describe himself as pretty. The word held an air of innocence to it. He could be sexy. He could be hot. He could be handsome. But he didn't think he could be pretty. The compliment was nice but it wasn't him.

He pushed away from the mirror. There was no point in standing there looking for something he wasn't going to be able to find.

Brendon was sitting on his bed when Ryan stepped out of the bathroom. He glimpsed up from the magazine on his lap. Gifting Ryan with a show stopping smile. Both rows of his teeth shining an invitation for Ryan to join the boy on his bed. Well, at least that's what Ryan hoped the smile meant as he sat himself in front of him.

"What are you smiling about?"

"I don't know." His lips pressed together but remained curved. "Why are you smiling?"

Ryan was about to inform him that he obvious wasn't smiling. Until he realized that he was smiling. How the hell was he smiling and didn't know? Why the hell was he smiling? Maybe when someone looked at a smile as bright at Brendon's, they had no choice but to return the gesture. It was a natural instinct. Science.

"I was just smiling because you were smiling."

"So I make you smile?" His eyebrows lifted in question.

"No." Ryan mock punched him in the arm. "I just didn't want you to be smiling like a lunatic all alone. Mine was a pity smile."

"Okay." Brendon's smile widened. "Well thank you for the pity smile. You can stop now."

No he couldn't. But still he tried. He pressed his lips tightly together. Sucking them into his mouth. Brendon chuckled. So of course Ryan gave in and laughed too.

Nothing was actually funny. Yet here they both were. Smiling and laughing at each other. Ryan had never been in a position like this before. An underlying worry seeped through the surface of his irrationally positive attitude. No one should be able to make you feel giddy by just sitting in front of you. Especially someone you barely knew. It wasn't normal. And it wasn't safe. Because it wasn't going to end well.

"Brendon." The shirt of the man who walked into their room, destroying their moment, had the Rehab's name printed on it. He must be a new member of the staff. "There's a Dallon Weekes on the private line for you."

"Tell him I'm busy."

The uncomfortable look on the man's face made it obvious that he didn't want to do that.

"Usually Jesse doesn't allow private calls. But he said because your caller was the one who admitted you, you're allowed to speak to him when it's not visiting day." He looked away. "From my understanding he's not able to visit right now so he-"

"I understand. But I don't want to talk to him." Brendon sighed. "Look, can't you see I'm busy with Ryan?"

"Actually," Ryan stood up. Happy for the interruption. "I was just about to head to the library."

"I can go with you. To return this magazine."

"No." He took it from his hands. "I'll just take it back for you. You go talk to your boyfriend."

"Is something wrong?"

"No." Ryan laughed but it was a strained sound. "I just like to be alone when I'm choosing my books."

"Okay?" Brendon stood up too. Turning to the man at the door. "Where's the phone?"