Boston {ryden}

5

woke up from dreaming, and put on his shoes
starting making his way past 2 in the morning
he hasn't been sober for days
leaning out into the breeze
remembering sunday, he falls to his knees
they had breakfast together
but two eggs don't last like the feeling of what he needs
now this place is familiar to him

Eight more days and for some reason, my lips had trouble keeping away from his, just like my hand had trouble staying untangled from his. Two weeks in a strange city and Ryan had already been hired at a local bar, while I teeter-tottered on the idea of college and degrees and a real career. He spent evenings and nights serving liquor to already drunken tourists and came home late to whisper stories of them to me as I fell asleep against his shoulder. Jon and Spencer's home became our own; the four of us falling into a sort of routine, learning to share the space and learning each other along the way. It was Jon's eyes I paid attention to the most; the way they met Ryan's over our chinese take-out, the way they glinted when he laughed at some joke Ryan had cracked. Ryan and I were unspokenly official; his hand belonged to mine and mine to his, and we didn't need ridiculous titles to know that was true enough. But something plagued me every time I watched Jon's sultry gaze meet Ryan's lighthearted one, something that might have been jealousy. I promised myself I had no right nor reason to feel that way, and went on with my new life, days coming and going near flawlessly.

October became November and suddenly the tension in the townhouse seemed to change with the steadily dropping temperature outside. It was cold at seven o'clock and the quiet Spencer suggested we take a walk and grab some coffee to let Ryan and Jon fuss over fixing the TV that had stopped getting reception. I left reluctantly but at the same time with relief; I couldn't keep watching the way Jon would shove him just so playfully, make him laugh the way only I did, touch his hand, catch his eye. The cold Boston air filled my lungs outside and Spencer noted my surprisingly silence as we walked, nudging me lightly to get my lost attention.

"Do they bother you?" He asked me, as I pulled the hood of Ryan's spare hoodie up over my head, trying to block my cheeks and ears from the biting nighttime breeze.

"Who?" I played dumb; jealousy bit my tongue for me.

He laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Don't even."

I couldn't stop the sigh from escaping me. "Why would they?"

He looked skeptical, but then again, Spencer's face was always twisted into a similar expression. "Because Jon's into Ryan," he came out and said, the words I'd been avoiding. I sucked in a quiet breath, not wanting the words to sink in, not wanting them to reach the fragile regions under my ribcage that were still in the process of healing– by Ryan's hand.

"Oh, is he? I... didn't notice." Christina always told me I was a terrible liar. She was right.

"Hard not to," Spencer went on. "He's had a huge jones for him since the first night you guys stayed with us. I thought he was gonna flip when you two started acting all... like a couple."

That brought a blush to my cheeks, but I could very well have blamed it on the cold had he noticed. I tugged on my sleeves, and heard him chuckle.

"What, you aren't a couple?"

The smile that crept onto my lips was slow and deliberate, catching Spencer's waiting eye at the right moment to spark one from him, too. "Yeah, I guess we are," I said as we stopped walking long enough for him to throw a friendly arm around my shoulders and let out a laugh.

"No shit."

But my smile fell just as quickly as the breeze moved up my sleeves and chilled my weak bones, and he noticed.

"What?" He asked, quietly, keeping an arm around me.

"You don't... you don't think Jon would... try anything on him, right?" I bit down hard on my bottom lip. Spencer's steps slowed again, and my heart found its way into my already tight throat.

"I doubt it," he said, a tone of insincerity in his voice that made my bones chill even without the breeze sneaking up my sleeves. "He's not like that. I think he's pretty much got the idea that Ryan's off limits."

His words struck me, and I was taken aback by my own posessiveness. Ryan and I were unspokenly official; his hand belonged to mine and mine to his, and we didn't need ridiculous titles to know that was true enough. But suddenly I craved that title, that sense of security to keep myself safe of this sickness that took over me every time I caught myself thinking of Ryan with somebody else. The word "mine" sounded so harsh; a child getting their doll taken away; but it kept coming to mind, and it made my hands shake with jealousy.

The walk home, I pressed my lips together in a thin frown, Spencer sensing the weight on my shoulders so he let the quiet between us linger all the way up the front steps to the townhouse. Inside was quiet, maybe they'd gotten the TV working again, and we'd spend an awkward evening watching old reruns of stupid sitcoms, laughing along with the laugh-track.

Spencer unlocked the front door, centimeters from opening his mouth and prompting me not to let Jon's subtle wishes get to me, but before he could speak my stomach dropped and my feet sank into the floor, fingernails dug into my palms when the sound of the pleased moan reached my ears. Spencer's hand stayed on the doorknob, silent, as I stepped through the foyer on shaken, heavy legs, somehow managing to drag myself up the stairs quietly enough to stumble upon the source of that moan: Ryan, seated low on the sofa, legs spread with Jon between them, pleasuring him in a way I hadn't been able to convince myself to do just yet. Before words could form on my lips, Ryan's eyes snapped open and landed on me, his moan catching in his throat and he nearly choked, judging by the strangled gasp he took in. What little dinner I ate came into my throat as Jon lifted his head from Ryan's lap, and I stumbled back from the living room, barely making it back down the stairs and out of the house before I got sick on the sidewalk, the contents of my stomach hitting the pavement right along with the hot tears that stung my cheeks on the way down.

I didn't even hear Ryan's shouted apologies as he and Spencer lifted my limp body up off the cold pavement.