Dorky Green Eyes (BXB)

~ Broken ~

"Were we ever out of the honeymoon phase before you broke up with me?" I asked him cautiously, shifting almost uneasily in my desk chair.

He blinked. "What's the honeymoon phase?"

I sighed. "God, Ryan, you're almost as hopeless as me. But that's a good thing. I didn't know either."

"What's the honeymoon phase?" I explained it to him. "We never fought because we were just a good match."

"But, we never really had any bad fights that took time to resolve. We never really had to work in the relationship because we just...I don't know." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I mean, I'm fortunate that the honeymoon phase lasted this long, but now its just hard. I'm okay with it, but..." I trailed off, unable to find the words to complete the thought.

"Well, I don't know. I think, it just never came up," he responded, shrugging his shoulders.

A thought occurred. And I knew that I was treading territory I probably had no reason to tread in. "Why don't you ever talk negatively about growing up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every time you've told me a story, it's always been funny, or charming, or awkward. Never sad."

"Why does that matter?" he asked, sounding almost defensive.

"I mean, I told you a story about how I trusted someone I thought I could trust, and the repercussions of when I found out that I really couldn't rely on them." I paused, eyes dropping to the floor. "Well, it was more the repercussions after that happened." I looked back, finding Ryan staring off into his keyboard, his gaze glossy and distant. "Ryan?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

He glanced back to his keyboard and nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Ryan, are you okay?"

He sighed slowly. "Yeah. I'm okay."

The conversation basically ended there. Subsequent conversations thereafter left Ryan slightly shaken and almost worried; he'd usually change the topic to me.

I asked his dad about something bad that happened to him growing up. He cited the time where Ryan broke his arm, which I already knew. My boyfriend neglected to tell me that he was running away from home when it happened.

"Was he always really attentive to other people?" I asked one day.

"Not particularly. He was when he was younger, then, something happened in middle school and...he...withdrew. It was about a year before he came out to us." His face darkened slightly.

"Did you ever send him to, like a therapist, or a psychologist?"

Mr. Anders shook his head. "Ryan didn't want to talk to someone."

"And you listened to him, regardless of how old he was?" His father gave me a decent answer, about how he and Mrs. Anders felt that he should've had a say in his life or something along the lines of that. Possibilities collided in my head of all probable problems, the most prevalent being that Ryan was dealing with negative feelings, alone, probably with no logical way of sorting them out. I might not have been good with emotional stuff, but at least I kind of knew how to manage it. "Did he ever lash out, or anything, at you guys?"