Something Worth Living For - Chapter 3
Author: ericasaur
Rating: Undecided- PG-13 for now.
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 1st, Brendon’s
Summary: Brendon hates his life. Ryan does too, only Brendon doesn’t know that. What he does know is that something is wrong with Ryan Ross, and he’s determined to find out what that is.
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Beta: were_so_starvin
Author’s Notes: At the bottom.
Chapter Three
“And today’s lunchtime topic is music,” Spencer announces.
“Finally, something I don’t mind talking about,” I say, relieved. It’s now three weeks into the school year, and I’m not any closer to figuring Ryan out. We’ve sort of become friends, and that’s kind of surprising to everyone.
“What about music?” Pete asks, chewing obnoxiously on a piece of gum.
“Anything,” Spencer shrugs.
“I heard MCR is working on a new album,” I throw in.
“Ooh, really?” Jayda perks up. They’re her favorite band.
“Yeah, they did an interview about it or something.”
“What’s MCR?” Ryan suddenly asks. We just stare at him.
“You know,” Spencer laughs a little, “My Chemical Romance?” Ryan still has that blank stare. I know they aren’t the biggest band in the world or anything, but mostly everyone knows who they are.
“You’ve been deprived,” Jayda says in horror, patting Ryan’s shoulder consolingly.
“What about Blink?” Pete asks, suddenly interested. “You’ve gotta know Blink.” Ryan smiles sheepishly, shaking his head.
We spend the next ten minutes questioning Ryan about various bands, and he doesn’t know any of them. I’m kind of baffled.
“Do you even listen to music?” I finally ask. He just shrugs. I can’t do anything but stare at him open-mouthed.
“How do maintain your sanity?” Spencer asks.
“Seriously,” I comment. Ryan shrinks into his seat a little.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, picking at his fingers and staring down at his lap.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say with a little comforting laugh, kind of confused as to why he thinks he should be sorry.
“Yeah, we’ll teach you all you need to know about music,” Spencer smiles.
The bell rings, and we all head to our classes. I always walk with Ryan, because his class is close to mine. He’s finally starting to get used to the whole ‘school’ thing, so he doesn’t quite have that deer-in-headlights look about him anymore. When I stop by his classroom, I hesitate before walking away.
“Ryan,” I stop him before he goes in. He turns around, raising his eyebrows. “Hang out with me tonight,” I ask, even though I know what he’s going to say. One, two, three, and…
“I can’t.” Of course.
“Why can’t you, Ryan? Why?” I stress. “Please, just tell me. Do you just not want to?” He immediately shakes his head.
“Look, I have to go. You need to get to class,” he reminds me before turning back around and heading into the classroom. I exhale slowly, rubbing my temples and continuing down the hallway.
-
The whole note-passing in seventh period thing has become something of a habit for Ryan and I. Not only does it pass the time, but I’ve also learned a lot about him through these notes. He’s not shy or reserved when it comes to writing. He just says exactly what he feels. I’ve learned that he hates chocolate, his favorite color is grey, he’s never had a pet, anything lemon-flavored makes him sick, and he likes to read.
A piece of paper slides underneath my hand.
I’ve never been on a boat.
I smile because every time I learn a new fact about him, I just feel that much closer to figuring him out. I glance at him, and he’s watching me, one corner of his mouth upturned. I take another moment to admire his pretty handwriting before replying.
Neither have I, but I don’t think I want to after seeing Titanic.
He frowns at the note when he reads it, and my eyebrows crease while I try to think of what could have made him make that face.
What is Titanic?
I stare at the paper much like I had stared at Ryan during lunch. This isn’t just petty things that he doesn’t know anymore. How does he not know about the Titanic? I turn my puzzled gaze back to him, and he’s looking at me expectantly. I have a theory, but it’s going to have to wait to be tested until later.
Come home with me today. Please? And don’t tell me you can’t if you aren’t going to give me a reason.
When he reads the note, I hear him sigh. He looks at me, his expression a mix of hesitance and longing; the same expression that’s on his face every time I ask him to hang out with me. He puts the note down and with a glance at the teacher, gets his phone out of his pocket. I see him typing out a message before closing it and slipping it back into the pocket of his hoodie. He continues taking notes, not replying to my question. I wave my hand in front of him, shrugging in a way that says, ‘well?’ and he just holds a finger up, looking anxious. I don’t quite know what I’m waiting for, but I wait.
I see him grabbing his phone again from the corner of my eye, and he’s scrolling through, reading something. He looks happy, maybe surprised. He quickly scribbles something on our note and passes it back.
Okay.
I feel myself smile, turning to look at him. ‘Really?’ I mouth. He nods, smiling back. I don’t know what finally made him change his mind, but we’re finally hanging out at least.
When the bell signifying the end of the days rings, I grab my bag and turn to Ryan. “What made you change your mind?”
“I texted my mom,” he shrugs. “I didn’t think she’d say yes, but she did.” He looks like he isn’t giving me the whole story, but I’m pleased nonetheless. When we’re walking outside the building, Jayda and Spencer come bounding up.
“Hey!” she grins.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” I give her a funny look. We start our walk down the street, Spencer with us because he always comes home with us on Fridays.
“William just asked for her number,” Spencer rolls his eyes.
“Yeah,” she agrees, looking a bit dazed. “He’s so great.”
“Brendon sure did think so,” Spencer snickers. Jayda snaps out of whatever daydream she was having to change her face into one of disgust.
“Can we please not ever talk about that ever again?”
“I second that,” I add.
“Hey, why are you here?” Spencer suddenly asks Ryan.
“He’s hanging out with us tonight,” I answer for him.
“Well, finally,” Jayda smiles, ruffling his hair. “Be prepared to have your ass kicked in Call of Duty.” Spencer groans, dreading the evening ahead, and I start to smile before I see the confused look on Ryan’s face. I hardly even have to think about why it’s there.
“Let me guess,” I start, “You don’t know what Call of Duty is.” I can tell I’m right by the look on his face. He has that sheepish look about him again.
“Not really,” he mumbles.
“Dude, have you been locked in a box your whole life?” Spencer asks disbelievingly. Ryan’s whole face shuts off, and he looks away. I shoot Spencer a dirty look. He knows that Ryan is sensitive.
“Hey,” I say in the soft tone that I only use with him. “Don’t listen to him.” He turns back to me with that closed off look still on his face, and shrugs. He doesn’t say anything the rest of the walk home.
***
One hour of explaining Call of Duty to Ryan and two hours of us all getting our asses beat by Ryan later, I give up.
“How?” Spencer asks, shaking his head. “How? He just learned to play it for fuck’s sake.” Ryan is sitting there with a small smile on his face. He doesn’t boast or brag when he wins, he just sits there with that smile.
“No, I’m so done,” I throw my controller down, glaring playfully at Ryan.
“I think I’m tired,” Ryan muses, setting the controller down carefully and stretching his long arms.
“Wanna go watch a movie?” I suggest. He nods, getting up. I get up and stretch out my own sore limbs, all cramped from being folded together for so long.
“I’m going to stay in here and deflate Spence’s ego some more,” Jayda grins, sprawling out lazily across her bed. I lead Ryan into my bedroom, grabbing all my blankets and pillows from where they’re piled haphazardly onto the floor and throwing them on my couch that’s in front of my TV.
“You have a couch in your room?” Ryan asks, sounding impressed.
“Yeah. You can pick from those movies,” I point to a stack near my TV. “Actually, since you’ve never watched Titanic, why don’t we watch that?” Ryan nods, so I pick it out and put it in the DVD player. I turn the light off and take my place on the couch, pulling my legs up and hugging them to my chest. Ryan sits on the other end and folds himself up on the cushion, bundling up in a blanket.
I stare at him, thinking about my earlier theory, and decide that there’s no time like the present. “Ryan, what happened at Pearl Harbor?” I ask. He stares at me surprised, his brows pulling together.
“Um. I- what?”
“Pearl Harbor,” I repeat. He just shakes his head slowly, lifting one shoulder. I nod. “What about the World Trade Center? What happened to it?”
“World Trade…?” he trails off. “I- I don’t,” he shakes his head again.
“Why don’t you know these things?” I ask bluntly. It’s not like he’s stupid. I’ve seen for myself how intelligent he is. He makes A’s on every test. But it’s like he doesn’t know anything about current- or past, for that matter- events. It’s like he doesn’t know anything about the world he lives in.
“I don’t know,” he says in a small voice.
“These are things that everyone knows. Everyone learns about them. Why haven’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, shrinking back against the couch. His face looks worried, and he’s biting his bottom lip.
“Why do you do that?” I ask, turning toward him. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ryan, it’s okay,” I say when his rigidness doesn’t let up. I reach a hand for him and his whole body jerks, causing me to quickly retract it. “Did something… did something happen to you?” Ryan starts breathing harder, shaking his head furiously.
“Hey, it’s okay, calm down,” I soothe, scooting closer to him, but he flinches again. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” He nods, but there’s obviously something wrong with him, because he’s starting to shake.
“Ryan, what happened to you?” I ask firmer this time.
“I- I can’t,” he struggles, shaking his head.
“You can’t tell me?” I clarify, and he nods. “No, you need to tell me,” I push, starting to worry a little.
“I can’t,” he says, nearly pleading. He’s starting to breathe really hard now, and I’m getting a little scared. “Not again,” he whispers.
“Not what again?” I rush out. “Are you okay?” He’s not just breathing hard anymore, he’s hyperventilating, clutching the blanket so tight his knuckles are turning white. “Ryan, what’s happening?” I ask frantically. He shakes his head, not able to speak, his chest heaving and whimpers escaping his mouth.
“Jayda!” I yell. “Jayda, come here!” I kneel on the floor beside Ryan and he takes hold of my arm, holding on tight. “It’s okay,” I mumble. Jayda runs in, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her, followed by Spencer. “I think he’s having a panic attack.” I put my hand against his chest and his heart is racing. He’s starting to sweat and his chest is still heaving.
“What do we do?” she asks, sounding frightened. “Do we call 911?”
“Ryan, do you have these often?” I ask him calmly. He gives a jerky nod, and I nod back, letting him hold onto my arm with his death grip. “We just have to wait for it to pass,” I tell them. “Spencer, go get some water. Jayda, get some Tylenol, I think he might be getting a fever.” They both nod and rush out of the room, and Ryan is still hyperventilating. I wonder if my questioning him brought this on. This was my fault. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, smoothing his hair back. He shakes his head, his chest jerking with every chopped breath that shudders through him.
I pull my arm from his grip until he’s holding onto my hand instead. I squeeze, trying to comfort him. I had a panic attack once when I was little, and it was scary. But Ryan said he gets them often, so I can’t imagine what that’s like; not knowing when it’s going to happen or what’s going to bring it on. Jayda and Spencer return and they stare anxiously as Ryan’s breathing gradually slows and becomes less choppy. He’s still breathing heavily, but he isn’t shaking anymore, and he’s slowly calming down. I grab the bottle of water from Spencer and unscrew the cap.
“Here, drink this,” I hand it to him. He lifts it with shaky hands to his mouth, taking big gulps and then accepting the Tylenol I offer him. I take the water back from him and move back up onto the couch. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.
“Are you okay?” Jayda asks in a timid voice.
“I think so,” he nods. His voice sounds scratchy and tired, and his chest slowly starts moving at a normal pace again. “Sorry,” he whispers. I squeeze his hand.
“Stop apologizing for things,” I tell him. “You had a panic attack, that’s not exactly something you can help.” He just stares at me, his eyes a bit wet and his lip swollen from being bitten.
“You need anything else?” Spencer worries. Ryan just shakes his head. Jayda gives one last concerned glance before she and Spencer retreat back to her room, closing the door behind them.
“Feel better now?” I ask. He finally lets go of my hand, reaching for the bottle of water instead.
“A little,” he shrugs. When he sees my concern he adds, “Don’t worry, I’m used to them.” I bite my lip a little, pushing my glasses up higher on my nose.
“How long have you been getting them?”
He thinks, says, “A long time. Since I was ten, at least.”
“I’m sorry,” I smile sympathetically.
“It’s okay,” he waves it off. “So, um,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Weren’t we about to watch a movie?” My mouth open and closes. He can’t possibly be pretending like nothing even happened.
“But, Ryan-”
“Don’t, Brendon,” he says tiredly, a slight shake to his head.
“It’s just-” I break off with a sigh. “You make me worry about you.” I say it with a crease in my eyebrows, my confusion clear. Because I don’t know why I worded it like that. “And I’m not used to worrying about other people.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says softly, smiling and patting my hand. It’s unsettling the way he’s being so impassive about this.
“Titanic it is then.”
-
“Oh my god,” Ryan sobs. “What kind of monster made this movie?” He wipes his eyes on his shirt. I watch on the screen as the ship breaks in half, slowly sinking into the water as the people scream. I discreetly wipe the tears threatening to fall from my own eyes. “Did this really happen?” he turns his teary-eyed gaze to me.
“The ship sinking, yes, the love story, no,” I answer, clearing my throat that was starting to get suspiciously choked up.
“That is so sad,” he whispers dramatically, clutching the blanket to his chest. I smile, not used to this side of him. It’s kind of cute.
When it gets to the part where Rose lets Jack fall into the water instead of moving her ass over on the giant piece of wood, Ryan makes a devastated sound.
“No,” he stage-whispers. I laugh a little, covering my mouth when he glares accusingly at me.
“I know right, she totally could have made room,” I shake my head sadly.
“I hate this movie,” he decides with a sniffle. I grab the box of tissues on the TV stand and hand them to him with a slight smirk. He grabs one and glares at me again.
“Shut up,” he mumbles. “And don’t think I didn’t see those renegade tears that you couldn’t wipe away fast enough.”
“Don’t tell people I actually do have emotions, it might freak them out,” I joke, making him laugh a little.
“You know, I really didn’t think I’d make any friends at a real school. But then you and Jayda…” he trails off with a smile. A yawn suddenly overtakes me, and I get up, stretching, smiling.
“I’m sleepy. You?”
“Yeah,” he yawns as well.
“You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch, it’s not as comfortable,” I offer.
“No, I can’t take your bed,” he declines.
“Seriously, I’m not making you sleep on the shitty couch,” I argue. “Take the bed.”
“Really, I’d feel bad,” he says. I give him a look, but he won’t budge.
“Am I going to have to make you?” I say in a daring tone, my lips twitching.
“I can’t take your bed,” he repeats.
“Ryan, come on.”
He twitches, smiling sheepishly. “Why don’t be both just sleep in it, then? It’s huge,” he points out, glancing at the bed that is indeed huge. I feel my face get hot, thinking about sleeping in the same bed as him, and I clear my throat.
“Um, yeah, sure,” I say nonchalantly. “If you insist,” I add with a roll of my eyes. He smiles and grabs the blankets and pillows, transferring them to the bed. I turn off the TV and crawl into my bed, stretching again and reveling in the cool sheets. I feel Ryan hesitantly crawl in on the other side, the bed shifting under his nearly nonexistent weight. I hear him let out a content sigh, and I feel him snuggling into the blankets. My skin is crawling.
“Um,” I swallow. “Goodnight.” I hear the sheets shifting again- Ryan turning over.
“Night,” he whispers back. I try to fall asleep, but my heart is slightly racing. It’s not until Ryan’s breathing has evened out that I’m able to fall asleep.
Chapter 4
***
A/N: I updated on time again! I'm on a roll. Leave comments! (: