Ghost Towns In The Ocean ☀︎ Ryden

14 | stationary

september 3rd

- boy oh boy it's like 12:30 am so it is technically sunday and also i feel like absolute Shit so if this story doesn't ever get updated ever again it's because i've successfully offed myself. someone will access my files one day. broccoli knows my computer password. you'll know the end eventually.

anyways this song is not on my list of the most beautiful in the world (although its a DAMN good song) but the lyrics fit well with the chapter. it's stationary by knuckle puck who are one of the best bands on this planet so go listen to it and make me proud.

━ how are things back home when i'm gone? it's getting safe to assume that you're alone in the same spot where i left you, but i promise, i'll be there soon

Brendon was sitting in the kitchen on the counter drinking well made coffee in his pajamas when Ryan made his way downstairs in the morning. Usually, Brendon would be out of the house and at work or on his way to work but by the way that there was no computer open on his lap and he was lethargically stirring the coffee while looking very physically dead Ryan inferred that something was different today.

"What's up?" Ryan asked, watching Brendon heave a loud sigh. Everything felt flip flopped and opposite right then, with Brendon being all mopey and emo while Ryan seemed alright in the head and able to ask the questions about what was wrong.

And it was all about that phone call, the phone call that both of them were overly aware of, the phone call that made Brendon's jaw hurt because he had been stress chewing gum all night, the phone call that made Ryan nauseous because of the emergency coffee pot that was being put to good use right there and then: the phone call that had changed everything.

Or simply cost Brendon one of his jobs.

"I messed up. And I think I lost my good good job." Which was a little less than specific and Ryan didn't know where to be, at all, really, though it was his own kitchen. When Brendon sat on the counter, which was always, he put his shoulders up straight and stretched his legs out and threw up his chin in that oh so elegant and defiantly fucking hot way but now that Brendon seemed unsure, or careless, about who he was or what he looked like, Ryan felt insecure too. Maybe insecure about being a writer because jesus-

"What kind of writer am I if the smell of coffee makes me want to throw up?" He asked out of nowhere, perplexed at how Brendon had been throwing back mug after mug of it.

"If the taste doesn't, then you're okay." And Ryan had made it all about him again, like always, even if it was just about stupid coffee and being a stupid writer because he was flaunting the profession that he did have around in front of someone who had just lost their job and-

"I'm going to go." The only thing he was even good at saying. Expecting raised eyebrows or some sort of smile, Ryan didn't know, Brendon just didn't look anything. And Ryan made his way towards the door and it felt like a slow motion melodrama in which Brendon would turn around and shout something in Spanish and he and Ryan would end up making out while cameras spun around them to make it look like they were the sun in the middle of a swirling Milky Way.

Instead-

"Can I come with you?" In a tiny voice, it was his cry for help. Sitting back on the counter like he had forgotten how to sit, the colors in his bracelets seemed faded and dull, but his eyes.

His eyes always spoke.

"Yeah." An 'of course' would have been better but Ryan took what he could get and having Brendon with him was as good as it ever got and suddenly he was thinking the bad thoughts that were a little too rash and a little too fucking gay about someone that he shouldn't have but the look that was now on Brendon's face was desperate, that's what it was, and Ryan had always presented him with an affirmative answer.