Cuddles (Ryden)

Chapter One - Ending the Rut

We were two misfits, Brendon and I. We resided ourselves to the library at lunch with the exception of few friends. While other teenagers were out partying and getting drunk, Brendon and I sat at home submerging ourselves in video games. The candy wrappers and chip bags would pile up until one of us got sleep deprived and went home.  

The rut we were in got unbearable. I guess too unbearable. I suggested we try to pick up smoking. When thick tar coated my lungs, I knew it wasn’t for me. Brendon suggested joining a sport to which we both laughed. So what ultimatum did we come to?

Drinking.

The liquor was exquisite. The way it burned my throat and fogged my vision was both terrifying and delightful. It made me want to jump—so I did. I crawled onto Brendon’s bed and began jumping up and down.

“Come join, Bren,” I slurred.

“We’ll break the bed,” He laughed from the floor. “Get down.”

“No way,” I tried jumping higher and motioned for Brendon to join. Soon enough, he crawled onto the duvet and jumped by my side. I began to wobble and fell in a fit of giggles onto his fit. Losing his balance, he fell beside me.

“Look what you did,” he chuckled in my ear. “You little—“

“What I did?”I interrupted him. “You’re the one who made me lose my balance!”

I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes the next morning. My head was pounding and my legs ached. Someone’s legs were interlocked with mine and my arms were around their torso. I knew that someone was Brendon. The beer was still fresh on his breath as he lightly snored mere centimeters away from my face. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. Not only did I drunkenly make a fool out of myself but I woke up cuddling my best friend.

I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. What if I woke him up? What if he freaks out? What would I say? The whole situation was becoming more and more difficult. I prayed Brendon couldn’t feel my heart beating as hard as it did. And if he could, I prayed it wouldn’t wake up.

“Brendon,” a voice chimed from downstairs. Brendon and I scuffled and twisted until we fell into a heap on the floor causing my head to ache harder. “Brendon, what was that?”

“Nothing, Mom,” Brendon called back. His face was flushed.  

“I made breakfast,” his mom trill voice pierced my ears. “Blueberry pancakes.”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath pushing away from me. “We’ll be right down.”

I didn’t know what to say. It was an accident, obviously. Brendon wasn’t dense enough to think I did that intentionally. Was he?

“Brendon,” I stood up beside him.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, not looking at me. “Let’s just forget about it.”

“Right,” my cheeks burned. It was nothing. Nothing at all. Soon it would be a distant memory. “Right.” I repeated.