Rewrite Your Happiness (A Ryan Ross Fanfiction)

Well, I May Have Faked It

—Two days later—

I had just bought a short-wire computer mouse, a guitar capo that dispensed spare picks, and flash drive with 16GB on it. I was super excited because Ryan wasn't a picky person when it came to...well, anything but music, so this present would be perfect. It was the most I could find for storing music and audio recordings. Since the band was picking up speed with their blink182 covers, it only seemed fair to gift him with the vital pieces to saving it all.  I also bought a large cupcake with pink frosting and real frozen strawberry from an obscure bakery in town, because no birthday is complete without just a little cake...wow, I'm such a girl.

I headed into Ryan's neighborhood around nine in the evening. That was usually the time he would stop by, smoke weed and hangout with Brendon and I. So, logically, I thought I might catch him on his way over. Walking past the house on sale, I remembered Ryan saying his house was at the end of the road on the...right? Yeah.

When I reached the house, I began to wondering if I was at the right place. It looked near abandoned from how dirty the exterior was. All the grass and plants were long past dead and the driveway was lined with leaves...and a glass bottle here and there. I came here for a reason, I would keep telling myself. I walked up to the door and knocked loudly. The door had stains all over it, like someone had run up and egged the door. I knocked again.

I wasn't being fooled because there was a light illuminating from one lone window farthest from the door. After a moment, I did the stupid thing and checked to see if the door was unlocked. It was. I peered inside and heard someone laughing with a croak. The smell of alcohol spilled out of the house and filling my nostrils, making me feel sick to my stomach.

I hadn't smelled something like that since that New Year's party, but this was stronger. The interior was dark and muggy, with a lone light shining in the room to the left. The floor lacked any dust, but was still lined with bottles. I was about to knock again when suddenly, I heard the sound of glass shattering in the lit room.

"Where did you hide it? Stop playing games with...*burp* ah, with me." The voice growled with a slur. I pulled the door closed to a crack as I saw Ryan walk slowly around the corner past the door. Though his eyes were glazed over, his shoulders began to tighten with his fists, making me clutch my arms in perturbed  anticipation.

"I didn't hide it, Dad. How could I if you drank it first? The least you could do is remember to be sober on your son's birthday and not ask yourself if you have any goddamn alcohol left to dri—"

The man slapped him. "Stop lying to me, Jr. I know you hid it somewhere. You know me, I drink to loosen up after work. I need at least two bottles for that to happen. If you don't motivate yourself to find it, I'll motivate the back of my hand to hit you harder next time."

Suddenly, a song I knew all too well started playing in my head. Watch your mouth because your speech is slurred and I'll bet you just might swallow your tongue...oh my gosh. My mind was on fire. It all made terrible sense. This was the reason why Ryan never wanted to go home, took night walks, wrote those songs, received anonymous contusions and offers from Sam to stay at her place. It was all happening here, protecting his dad from himself. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back my anger. How could I have been so blind?

Ryan turned his head back to face his father again. His stare was daring for someone who had just been inflicted with the backside of his father's hand. "Dad, please," Ryan spoke firmly through his teeth. "I want you to think about what you are doing...that was your seventh one today. I think you need to lay down and get some rest before your heart—"

Slap

"Last chance, Jr." His dad sputtered, arms crossed. "It's either that or no watchin' The Sopranos tonight."