On your knees // Bandom

47. Gloom Boys

"Hi."

And there it is: the twenty-third word. The breaking point. Yet he's still alive, its a shame.

"Awsten. You came." Ryans dad had wheeled back from the door to greet him.
"I couldn't refuse."

Three more words and he was still here. Still breathing. Just.

The two of them stand in a silent stalemate, loss pulling them closer and isolating them simultaneously.

"Well, come in." Eric shifted into host mode, only a little late. "Tea?"

Awsten nodded and followed him in, trying not to think about last time he was here.
How the place looked all decked out on boxing day, with Ryan filling the rooms with his light.

Ryan's bedroom door was closed and Awsten distracted himself from that, too, from Ryans kiss and compliments and how he sounded when he wasn't scared of what was going to happen. Maybe he should have been.

He wish he'd admitted it earlier, or Ryan had, or even that he'd either moved here earlier or not at all. He just longed for a little more time.

If he'd never met him in real life, what would he be thinking now? That his probably fake internet friend had moved on, or was busy. He would still be talking. He would still be all held together.

"Have you spoken to anyone?" Eric asked him. He'd barely noticed they'd reached the kitchen.
Awsten shook his head. "I haven't talked at all. To anyone."
"At all?"
"Not a word. Only to you. 40 words to you." Why was he still counting? "And none to them. I Just...can't"
"I understand."
"You do?" 46 and for the first time since new years, he didn't feel the need to snap the band against his wrist.

He offered him the promised tea, and Awsten took it, black, and buried his nose in the smell. Personally, he preferred iced coffee, but there was something comforting In that warmth.

"Have you interacted with people, though?" Eric was in dad mode, and Awsten wondered if he'd missed it. Then cursed himself for the thought.

"Yeah. I've messaged my friends back home and my new ones and... I just feel alone, I guess. Sorry, I should'nt-" Now he'd started, it seemed he couldn't stop the babbling.

"It's okay. You need to talk, go ahead."
"It's not fair." Awsten didn't know if he was talking about Ryan, or him sitting here forcing his dad to listen to him. 69 words. Huh. Now was not the time for dirty jokes.

"Nothings fair." Erics answer was equally ambiguous.
"It should have been me." The thought of it had been going around and around and around and this was the first time he'd voiced it, or even written it down.
"That wouldn't have been fair, either." His response was careful, treading on ice. He would have probably preferred Awsten die than his own son.
Awsten shrugged. "Still,"
Eric eyed him, worry etched into his face. He'd lost one son and here he was, adopting another, more messed up, one.

Awsten stared into his cup, and his reflection looked back, distorted. His hair back to purple, like that could erase everything.

His hand found the bobble and he wanted to stop himself, keep him in check before things went off the rails, but this felt safe, for now. Snap. Snap. Snap. Red marks left behind, but at least they wouldn't scar, right?

"The house feels empty without him." Eric admitted.
"My house feels empty, too. We've been here six months or so and I'm still not used to it."
"Its okay to miss him, is what I'm saying."
"I'm not sure anyone else does." 100 words. He wasn't sure he could manage any more.
"They do." Eric assured him. But he could no longer talk.