Young and Confused ☆ Ryden {COMPLETED}

☆2☆

(A/N: Trigger warning- homophobic slurs and child abuse)

Ryan lay on his bed, thinking. He should probably get to know Brendon more so it wouldn't be awkward when he went over to Brendon's house. There was no way that Brendon was coming to Ryan's. His dad was a loose cannon that seemed to always be drunk. He pulled out his phone.

Ryan: is this Brendon?

Brendon: no, this is Patrick

Ryan: fr? Sorry

Brendon: nah just messing with you

Ryan: you suck

Ryan: for the project can I come over to your house

Brendon: let me ask my parents, one sec

Brendon: yeah

Ryan: Ok

Ryan: I'm bored

Brendon: hi bored I'm dad

Ryan: can you not

Brendon: maybe

Brendon: What do you want to do then

Ryan: want to play 20 questions

Brendon: sure. You can start

Ryan: what's your favorite band

Brendon: black veil brides

Brendon: what's yOUr favorite band

Ryan: same

Ryan: do you like anyone

Brendon: Wow speeding right into this aren't we?

Ryan: psh you can trust me because my only friend is Spencer

Brendon: I'll tell you if you tell me

Ryan: fine but I asked first so you go first

Brendon: ugh fine

Brendon: Sarah O.

Ryan: she's in 8th grade

Brendon: she's supposed to be in 7th but her dad's the superintendent and since she's smart he let her skip a grade

Ryan: Wow lucky

Ryan: but how do you know that

Brendon: mom gossip

Ryan: lmao

Brendon: my mom tells me eVerything

Brendon: So who do you like

Ryan: that Lynn girl

Brendon: I'm pretty sure she has a girlfriend

Ryan: she's a lesbian? Well then I guess I don't like anyone

Brendon: guess not

Brendon: do you have any pets

Ryan: no. my dad would never, he doesn't care about anyone or anything

Brendon: oof

Brendon: I noticed you have stretched ears. when'd you start?

Ryan: the end of sixth grade

Ryan: I'm an eDgy boi

Brendon: you're a dork

Ryan heard his father yelling for him downstairs. Ryan's hands started to shake. His dad had started to beat him when he got drunk. The abuse had been happening more frequently.

Ryan: i gotta gho see yoy tomorrow

Brendon: nice spelling

Brendon: see ya

(sent 8:36)

Ryan slowly made his way downstairs, ready, but at the same time not, to be hit. He wished his mom were still around. This wouldn't be happening if she was still around. An empty beer bottle flew by his head, smashing against the wall. Ryan flinched.

"Come 'ere, boy!" George boomed. Ryan stepped towards his father, trembling. He looked his father in the eyes. "Are you wearing earrings? And makeup? I didn't raise my son to be a fag." The word rolled off of his tongue and stabbed Ryan.

"I-I-I'm n-not gay!" the boy responded.

"Are you lying to your father, George?" This father raised his hand and swiftly met it with Ryan's cheek. He shoved his son forward, catching Ryan off guard. He stumbled backward and hit the back of his head on a table, while falling, causing a blue vase to fall to the ground. The world around him started to throb.

"I will not let you just break my things, faggot!" The word stabbed Ryan once more.

"I'm not gay!" he yelled back. Tears were stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.

"You will not have a pansy of a son lie to me!" George pulled Ryan back up, turned him around, and pushed him into the table. His aim was off, so Ryan's eyebrow was sliced by the corner of the table. His hands stopped his fall, but they were cut by the sharp pieces of glass from the vase. Ryan tried so hard to push himself up. Once he did, he ran into his room, head pounding with every heartbeat.

He trudged into the bathroom, pulling the cabinet door on the mirror open. He pulled out and opened the aspirin, taking two. He closed the cabinet and looked at himself. Ryan had a red mark on his cheek where his father's hand hit him. He had a cut with maroon coming out of it. A drop of blood was starting to fall out of it. He examined his hands next, which had a few minor cuts that were bleeding.

He turned the faucet handle and let the water wash over his hands. It stung. A lot. It stung like the words his father had said. Ryan was not gay. He told himself this over and over again while dabbing his cut on his eyebrow with a damp washcloth. He dried his hand and face with a towel and put Neosporin on his eyebrow cut. He walked back into his room, falling on his bed. The throbbing hurt until it started to slow as he fell asleep.

---

A/N: This hurt to write.

Song Suggestions:

Love Me ● The 1975

I Don't Love You ● My Chemical Romance

(I know, very contradictory song titles.)