Can You Keep A Secret?

Chapter Fifty-Eight

           

-Rye's POV-

            Maybe it was paranoia over what had happened with Andy, but I didn't want Brooklyn to be alone for too long. He ignored my text, leaving me unaware of what he wanted. Worst case scenario, he really doesn't want to be around people, and I go back upstairs. Once again, it was better to be safe than sorry.

            I found him sitting on the ground, back against the wall of the building, head in his hands. And, even after all of this time of watching people at their very worst, it still broke my heart to see him like that. Out of all of us, Brooklyn was the most resilient – Always the first to bounce back after a fall and try again. It felt wrong that he was no longer happy and bouncing around the place like an overenergetic puppy.

            I sat down beside him, and his didn't ask me to leave, so we stayed there like that until his sobs subsided. I wanted to distract him form what was going on, and maybe I wanted to stop thinking about it myself – That Jack was really gone. I hadn't really accepted that it was a fact yet – I was still sort of expecting him to jump out from some hiding place and say that it was all a big joke, that they'd really gotten us good.

            So, I asked the most basic question that I could think of – "How was your break?" He let out a humorless laugh, one that was weighed down with tears.

            "It sucked."

            "Yeah, mine wasn't too great either." We were quiet for a moment again.

            "Why didn't you text or call me at all?" He asked, and I could tell that he was a little bothered by it.

            "Well, I broke my phone," I said, not bothering to go into the story of how I had. "I'm sorry that I didn't contact you or anything. I had to come to terms with the fact that I was hurt and needed help." I admitted, hoping that maybe, knowing that he wasn't alone could somehow make all of this a little easier on him.

            "I feel like I should've done more for you," he said softly. "It was scary to, you know, see you like that. I guess I didn't know what to do."

            "No, it's okay," I insisted. "I wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet. I didn't even tell my parents for a while." And it felt good to be talking to him about it.

            "How did they react?" He asked, wiping his eyes and turning to look at me.

            "My mum was hit pretty hard by it, and they made me go to a psychologist." Until this exact moment, I'd been embarrassed and ashamed of that fact. I didn't want to come off as weak to anyone, but I realized that there was a certain type of strength that it took to show your vulnerable side, to admit that you weren't indestructible. Maybe it was even the bravest thing that anyone could do.

            "What was that like?" He asked.

            "I dunno. It was weird. Not particularly good or bad. I didn't want to go, but maybe I had to. You know? He said that I had post traumatic stress disorder. You're the first of the boys that I've told." I looked straight ahead, unsure of what it would be like now that the information was out there.

            "Thanks for trusting me," He said, genuine emotion showing in his voice. "What...what was it like? If you're comfortable talking about it, I mean." He quickly caught himself.

            "It was terrifying, I won't lie. I had no idea what was going on, and I didn't know what would happen to us. I just wanted to keep Liv safe."

            He stretched his legs out, saying, "I don't think I could've done what you did. You're the bravest person that I know. I don't know how you do it all, and still manage to be so..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "Sane. Put together." I had to laugh at that.

            "I'm losing my shit," I said. "My sleep schedule is fucked, maybe beyond repair. You know how I broke my phone? I ran off to some random place, got high with a group of strangers, and woke up in the rain. I ran off of the damn stage in hysterics because I thought that the shooter was chasing after me, and I don't go a day without thinking of him, or of what happened. My thoughts are driving me crazy and it's all that I can do to keep functioning." I tried to regain myself after that outburst.

            "I mean, things aren't easy right now. They're harder than they've ever been, I think. But, I mean, this can't be the end. There's still things to work towards. You can't, like, only define yourself by the shit that's happened to you. I guess I'm working towards the time that it ends, or doesn't hurt as badly, because it can't last forever."

            "Is...is there anything that I can do to help?" Brooklyn asked.

            "Would you believe me if I said just talking to you is helping? You're even better than the doctor," I said, playfully nudging his shoulder. His face crinkled in concentration before lighting up, the figurative lightbulb moment.

            "Therapy with Road Trip," he said, clearly excited about his idea. "Like, we sit and talk. With our favorite snacks and stuff. And someone could FaceTime Jack. And, you know. Maybe that could help all of us."

            I looked at him, a little surprised at how good of an idea it really was.

            "I'll ask Blair and the others about it, and then we can go out and buy the snacks, if you want?" He smiled, before turning to me and gathering me into a strong, long hug.

            "I love you, Rye," he said into my shoulder.

            "I love you too, Brooklyn." And I did. I loved all these boys, and I hoped more than anything that we could somehow find a way to make it through this.