Something Worth Living For - Chapter 7

[ericasaur]

Masterpost

Chapter Seven

The central dogma does not apply to some viruses. Select a specific virus or type of virus and explain how it deviates from the central dogma.

What? I stare down at the paper, uncomprehending. Fuck, okay, next question.

Explain the role of spliceosomes in protein synthesis in eukaryotic cells.

I groan in exasperation, throwing my pen down and banging my head on the table, earning a few glares from other students trying to study. Why the fuck did I decide it would be a good idea to take AP Biology? Biology is my worst subject; therefore I am obviously an idiot.

I thought I’d have better luck at studying if I retreated to the library, but I’m getting nowhere. I have a huge test tomorrow and I’m probably going to fail. Maybe I should just give up school and join the circus. I like elephants well enough.

I’m contemplating in my head when the next time the circus will be in town when I see my pen coming into view in front of my face, along with the hand that’s holding it.

“Studying not going so well?” Ryan smiles sympathetically. I sigh a one-hundred percent dramatic sigh of despair, flopping over on the table with my head to the side and looking up at him pitifully.

“Do you think it’d be hard to tame lions?” I ask hopefully. He sits down next to me, huffing out a laugh and looking down at my paper.

“I’m pretty good at Biology,” he offers.

“Well then can you please tell me what the fuck a spiceosome is?” I ask. Ryan laughs, ignoring the glares he gets from other people.

“Spliceosome,” he corrects with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, that.”

He rolls his eyes fondly and starts explaining to me about spliceosomes, something or other about protein subunits - I think I hear the word ‘splicing’ in there somewhere, I don’t know. I’m too busy watching the way his lips form around his words, pursing around his ‘w’s and stretching wide when he smiles. I feel like a person in a movie, when the other person’s voice is being blocked out while you stare at them, lost in your own thoughts.

“You get that?”

“Huh?” I mumble, jerking out of my daze and looking at him attentively. “Sorry, yeah, splicing. Awesome,” I nod. He seems to know I wasn’t paying attention because he grins crookedly and starts explaining it again.

And, well, I don’t think tutoring is gonna help very much if my tutor is distractingly hot.

“It’s no use,” I mutter miserably. “Just leave me in my misery.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” he laughs, elbowing my side. I take a moment to appraise his appearance today; he’s only wearing his normal tight jeans and a t-shirt, which is kind of odd because he always dresses pretty elaborately. It’s interesting to see what outfit he comes up with every day. I kind of look forward to it. His hair is styled today though, giving it that faux-hawk look. It always looks so soft. I wonder if it feels as soft as it looks. He really does have rather pretty hair. It probably takes a while to get it to look so perfect.

“Um, Brendon?” Ryan laughs, and I blink, staring at my hand that apparently unconsciously made its way into his hair. I can feel my face getting hot, and I retract my hand with a nervous laugh. It is soft.

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for touching his hair. “I just, um… like your hair… a lot?”

He just laughs softly, though, smiling at me so wide his teeth are showing. “Thanks. I like yours too,” he says, reaching up and running a hand through my hair. I get goose bumps on my arms just from him touching me, and my head might lean into his hand a little bit.

“I looked for you for like fifteen minutes,” he says suddenly, pulling his hand away. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve seen you in the library,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I thought I would study better in here,” I shrug, closing my books with a resigned sigh. “By the way, Jayda wants you to come over tonight. She’s insisting I call it a sleepover,” I roll my eyes, “but whatever.” I don’t add the part where I want him there too.

“Cool,” he nods. “Spence gonna be there?”

“Spencer practically lives with us,” I laugh out. “He’s a moocher.”

“I still think he and Jayda should be together,” he declares.

“That would almost be incest,” I reply, horrified. He laughs, shaking his head at me.

“Well, I’ll be there,” he accepts with a smile.

“Good,” I say quietly, unsuccessful in keeping a smile at bay.

“I have to go; my class is on the other side of the building,” he explains, standing up. Before I can say bye he’s wrapping me in a hug, and oh, we’re doing hugs now? I return the hug, reveling in the feel of him pressed warmly against me. I’m pretty sure normal hugs don’t last this long, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“See you,” he says softly into my ear before pulling back.

“Yeah, bye,” I reply shyly. I watch him walk away, biting my lip with longing.

God, I’m pathetic.

* * *

“So he’s coming, right?” Jayda asks.

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant. The thing is, I’m driving myself insane,” I inform her, staring at her unwaveringly. She’s kind of looking at me like I’ve gone mental.

“How so?” she asks slowly.

“This stupid crush. Ugh, it’s like I can’t even talk to him anymore without staring at him like a creep or nearly fainting,” I complain to her.

“Have you kissed him yet?”

“No!” I answer too quickly, and then I cough. “Who says I’m going to anyway?” At that she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, please,” she laughs. I groan, falling back onto my bed and covering my face.

“This is so weird. I mean, he’s my friend.” Jayda lies down next to me, staring at the ceiling and chewing on her lip.

“I don’t really think you’ve ever thought of him as just a friend, Bren,” she raises an eyebrow playfully. “I mean, you practically gawked at him the first time you saw him.” Damn it, I knew that was noticeable. “And I don’t know if you know this,” she turns on her side to face me, “but guys just don’t give their other guy friends back massages without their shirts on while sitting on top of them,” she pats my shoulder consolingly.

“Yeah, I figured,” I sigh. “I just. God, I really like him and it feels so weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it that way,” she shrugs, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “Ryan likes you too, you know. I can tell. Plus, the way you described that almost-kiss makes it seem like he was into it too.” Ryan and I haven’t said anything about that almost-kiss, but it’s like every time we’re together, it’s just hanging in the air waiting for someone to bring it up.

I hear a quiet, incredulous laugh from my doorway, and I jerk my head up to see Spencer gaping at us. “You like Ryan?” he asks dubiously.

“Eavesdropper!” Jayda yells, throwing my pillow at him.

“Spence, you can’t say anything to him,” I warn him, and he bursts out laughing.

“Like you aren’t obvious enough toward him on your own. I had a hunch, but now I know,” he grins, crossing his arms and looking smug. He plops down on the bed on top of us, squishing me, and adds, “And Jay is right; he totally has the hots for you.”

“Shut up, he does not,” I mumble.

“He, uh, sleeping with you in your bed tonight?” Spencer asks casually with a teasing undertone. I hit him with my pillow. “Easy there, don’t wear yourself out. Might wanna save that energy for Ryan later on,” he winks.

“Fuck you,” I say, hitting him again. He opens his mouth for a retort but I cut him off. “Don’t even,” I warn, fixing him with a glare. His mouth shuts.

“You guys made out yet?” he continues to tease me, and I groan and get up, throwing him off me.

“He’s gonna be here soon, so shut up.” I walk out muttering obscenities under my breath, and I go into the living room to wait until he gets here.

I hear Jayda and Spencer leaving my room and going into hers, and I wonder how William is dealing with their friendship. He’s got to be jealous of how close they are, because he’s just the jealous type. I inwardly cringe when I remember that she invited him tonight.

I think Ryan and I will just hang out in my room.

He arrives soon, and when I see him I’m greeted with yet another hug. I’m growing fond of these hugs, and I’m pretty sure they last longer each time.

“Hey,” he smiles, and my stomach is all jittery again.

“Hi, there,” I laugh, ruffling his hair before he pulls back. I hear Spencer saying something, coming down the hallway.

“Oh, Brendon, is that your boyf-ow!” Spencer gets cuts off by Jayda kicking him.

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

“Is it okay if I go put my bag in your room?” Ryan asks me, shooting Spencer and Jayda, who are now wrestling on the floor, an amused glance.

“Yeah, sure,” I smile. His hand brushes mine when he passes me and it’s ridiculous that that gives me chills. I’m in a hazy, smiley, daydream-y state, but then the apartment buzzer goes off and I groan because I know it’s William. I go buzz him in without saying anything and then I turn around and retreat to my room.

“Don’t bother me,” I call to the struggling pair over my shoulder before walking into my room. Ryan was coming out just as I was coming in, and we run right into each other. I grab him, steadying myself, and he laughs a little nervously.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” I smile. “I thought we could just hang in here because I don’t feel like dealing with William,” I tell him. All William does is make me nervous. He’s mean to Ryan, but if I’m not mistaken, he always has that underlying look of interest when he looks at Ryan. And I definitely don’t want Ryan anywhere near him.

“He’s coming?” Ryan makes a face.

“Unfortunately.”

“Great,” Ryan sighs, flopping down on my bed. He lifts his head up, looking around curiously. “Why is your room so clean?” he wonders.

“I just felt like cleaning,” I shrug, leaving out the part where I did it because he was coming. He just nods, and we fall back into silence. He’s biting his nails - something I’ve figured out he does when he’s nervous. It’s not an awkward silence, it’s comfortable. I sit at the foot of my bed, facing him and looking down at my fingers, absently tapping rhythms onto my knee. I really wouldn’t even mind if we spent all night like this. I just like him being here.

Plus, when he’s here I know that he’s not getting hurt.

“Can I ask you something?” he suddenly breaks the silence. I look up to meet his gaze, nodding. He seems to contemplate it for a moment, a crease in his eyebrows and his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally asks, “Why did you… do those things with William?” I freeze, my eyes going wide from embarrassment all of a sudden. “I mean, you act like you can’t stand him,” he adds confusedly.

“Well,” I start, clearing my throat to buy time. Honestly, I only hooked up with William because he was there, and it was easy. But I’m afraid if I tell Ryan that, he’ll think less of me. “I mean, I used to be a different person,” I tell him. He nods, having heard that from multiple people. “But it’s not like I only changed for the bad - I used to be nice and friendly and perky, yeah, but I was also shallow as fuck, and I see that now. I hooked up with William because… well, because it was easy,” I admit, my shoulders slumping slightly. I do feel bad about it, but it’s not like he wasn’t using me too.

“You know, everyone acts like you’re some kind of robot,” he starts, and my throat tightens. I hate when people call me that, “but I don’t get why they say that. You’ve always been nice to me. Maybe not that first week, but other than that…” he trails off, shrugging. I think, yeah, that’s because I act different with you.

“I haven’t been as bad since you came along,” I say instead. My lips twitch up a little, and I look up to see him smiling at me. I remember when I first met him, it was so hard to get him to smile, and I wanted to see it so bad. His smiles come so easily now. I probably don’t even deserve them.

Our blissful silence is interrupted by my door being thrown open, William barging in with Jayda on his heels.

“Leave them alone,” she says exasperatedly. I honestly don’t even know why she bothers with him. She could do so much better.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” he says to Ryan, seemingly surprised. “Look at you two all cozy.” I roll my eyes at his stupid smirk, rubbing my forehead and trying to will him out of existence. It’s not working.

“What do you want?” I ask, my face twisting into something similar to disgust, which seems about right.

“Hey, no need to be rude,” he grins, walking over and sitting down on my bed in between us. I turn to give Jayda a look, trying to convey with my eyes that I would like her to remove her boyfriend immediately, thank you.

“Oh look, you’re wearing normal clothes,” he laughs lightly, gesturing to Ryan who is again only clad in jeans and a t-shirt. Ryan looks down, biting his lip and not responding.

“Shut up,” I say, annoyed. He ignores me.

“You know,” he starts, leaning back and looking at Ryan in a considering way, “I’ve come to the conclusion that you must have some sort of mental deficiency. That’s probably why you’re so weird,” he nods sympathetically in a mocking fashion. I feel anger steadily rising, and I don’t get angry very often, but I can feel heat in my veins. I don’t understand why he’s picking on Ryan; sweet, quiet Ryan who’s done nothing at all to make William treat him this way.

“William,” Jayda hisses, walking over and grabbing his arm.

“I bet you’re the type of kid who locks himself in the closet,” he says, and then he laughs and adds, “That totally has a double meaning. Don’t think I haven’t seen you making heart eyes at Brendon.”

“Get him the fuck out of here,” I yell to Jayda. I’m not really mad at her, but I’m mad nonetheless. I can’t remember the last time I raised my voice like that. But Jayda isn’t moving, she’s staring wide-eyed behind me.

“Brendon,” she says, and her voice sounds panicky. William isn’t laughing anymore. I whip my head around and my heart sinks. Ryan is clutching the comforter with one hand and his throat with the other, breathing in choppy, uneven breaths, his chest heaving. If I was angry before, then I’m fucking furious now.

“You fucking idiot!” I yell at William, moving over swiftly to sit in front of Ryan, putting my hand on the side of his neck and making calming noises. “Jayda, water?” I ask, and I can hear her exiting the room. Ryan opens his eyes and they’re watering, looking at me helplessly. I really hope I don’t have to witness too many of these, because it’s killing me.

“I-I’m sorry,” William stutters, walking over and kneeling beside the bed. “I didn’t-”

“Bullshit!” I finally snap, directing all my pent-up anger toward him. “Don’t act like you feel bad! You’ve been an asshole to him for no reason ever since you met him, and you don’t get to be sorry,” I finish, tearing my angry gaze from his and looking at Ryan worriedly again. He looks like he can’t get enough air, like he honestly can’t breathe, and this is a lot worse than last time.

“It’s okay,” I soothe. He removes his hand from the sheets and clutches my own hand instead, his grip unbearably tight. “C’mon, breathe slowly,” I say, mimicking deep breaths while he tries to follow my actions. “Just look at me.” I smooth my hand down his cheek comfortingly, and he leans into the touch, locking his eyes with mine and trying to stop choking on air. I stay where I am, murmuring quiet encouraging words, vaguely aware of Jayda reentering the room. His breathing becomes less choppy, allowing him to take full breaths now, but he’s still breathing hard and shaking. I glance at William and he’s looking on worriedly. Ryan makes a relieved sound now that the worst part is over, and he kind of slumps over onto me. I put my arms around him, not turning my attention away, and say, “Give me the water and then everyone get out.” Jayda hands me the water.

“I-” William starts.

“Get. Out,” I say slowly. I hear footsteps, and then the sound of my door shutting. I glance back to make sure, and the room is empty. Ryan removes himself from me, still breathing hard and wiping at his watery eyes. “You okay?” I ask softly.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, I just - they just happen sometimes,” he shrugs.

“Here,” I say, handing him the water, which he gratefully accepts, drinking a large amount. I barely register the shaking in my hands, much too focused on the feeling of pure anguish. It’s not fair that his life is so hard. He’s never been at a school before, so socialization is hard for him. His parents abuse him. He has frequent panic attacks. It’s not fair, and he doesn’t deserve it.

“Can we just - will you lie down with me?” he asks quietly. His voice sounds like hell. I nod enthusiastically, placing the water on my nightstand.

“Yeah, of course,” I agree, getting up and turning the light off before crawling into the bed where he’s already lying down. For a minute it’s silent, but I can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” he finally says. I turn on my side, and I can just make out his features in the dark. I only just now realize how cold it is, snuggling into my blankets.

“I don’t mind,” I smile. He shivers suddenly, and I can’t help but think that the chills I’m having are for a different reason than his.

“It’s really cold,” he laughs meekly. I bite my lip, knowing exactly what I’d like to do to warm him up, but I’m too scared of rejection to even shift closer to him. It doesn’t matter, because he’s the one who shifts closer to me, almost close enough for us to be touching.

“I’m sorry about William,” I offer.

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs, causing the sheets to rustle underneath him. “He just… he really gets to me.” All I want to do right now is plaster myself to his side.

“Are you alright?” I ask. “I mean, not just with this, but with everything,” I clarify. He hesitates, and that answers the question for me. I expect him to lie and put on a fake smile, but he doesn’t this time. Instead, he’s looking at me with eyes that are starting to water again. “Ryan?” I ask, my eyebrows creasing with worry.

“My parents hate me,” he mumbles. My chest aches. “They’ve almost always hated me. Especially my dad. I’m not exaggerating. He tells me all the time,” he squeezes his eyes shut. I temporarily forget my nervousness and reach blindly for his hand under the covers, lacing our fingers together. He scoots closer, squeezing my hand. “I don’t understand why they hate me so much,” he almost whispers, one tear spilling down his cheek.

“Ryan,” I choke out, looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

“You wanted to know, Bren - what’s wrong with me, you wanted to know,” he says. My eyes widen, because I think he’s going to finally tell me. “My dad, he doesn’t just hit me,” he says quietly. The first image that pops into my head is an awful one; Ryan’s dad looming over him, undoing his belt and - god, please god, don’t let that be it. I start to feel panicky, but Ryan squeezes my hand again. “There was a reason why I was home-schooled.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but my heart is racing with the suspense of it all.

“When I was really young, like four or five, my family was pretty much perfect. We would go places together, like the park, or the carnival. My dad loved to take me places. I remember he used to take me to baseball games and lift me up on his shoulders so I could see,” he smiles fondly, his mind somewhere far away. “My mom would tuck me in every night and sing to me. She let me sit on the counter and pretend to help her cook. I was pretty much the happiest kid in the world,” he meets my eyes then. “And then my dad started drinking.” My heart sinks, because I can tell it tears him up to even have to say that sentence.

I stay quiet, letting him continue. “Anyway, it all went to hell from there. It didn’t take long for a few drinks a week to become every day, and pretty soon I didn’t even have a dad anymore, just some alcoholic. He started hitting my mom. She wasn’t the same anymore either. She was bitter, sad, resentful,” he lists, shaking his head. “My dad eventually started taking his anger out on me too. By the time I was supposed to start school, I had to be home-schooled because my dad was completely crazy and he said he didn’t want me around other people. I didn’t really understand at the time, but now I think it was because he was afraid of me telling someone about him hitting me,” he reveals. He’s completely absorbing me with his story, my attention never wavering for a second.

“So then my dad started telling me I was the reason he started drinking. He said I screwed up his life, that I was the reason he and my mom weren’t as close as they used to be. Of course, my mom started blaming me after that, saying that he wouldn’t hit her if it wasn’t for me.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My mom was always adamant about there being no violence in our house, so I can’t even imagine the life he’s had. “Here’s the part you want to know,” he says quietly, his eyes watering again. “When I was eight my dad started locking me in the basement.” My mouth drops open. I’m too shocked to even comprehend what he’s telling me because how could someone be so cruel?

“What?” I hear myself whisper. His eyes are welling up with tears again.

“He said he was sick of seeing my face and he locked me in the basement. At first it was just as punishment, whenever he got mad at me. But then he started locking me in there for days at a time,” he says. Tears are rolling down his face now. “My mom would bring me food and she would still teach me the school lessons, but she never stopped him from putting me down there.”

“I - oh my god,” I breathe.

“It gets worse,” he whispers. “When I was ten, he put me down there and before he left, he said, ‘you aren’t coming back out this time,’ and he meant it. He didn’t let me back out.”

“W-what?” I ask incredulously, because there’s no way I heard him right. He takes a deep breath, tears falling steadily.

“Brendon, my parents kept me locked in the basement for six years,” he chokes out, letting loose a sob. I realize my face is wet, and I’m crying. I try to say something, but I can’t because I have no idea what to say. Out of all the things I’d come up with - maybe he has memory loss, maybe he’s a fucking alien, I don’t know - this never crossed my mind.

“My mom brought me food and school work and my dad came down when he was angry to take it out on me. That’s the only interaction I had until I was sixteen,” he admits. “There were no windows; I couldn’t get out. I was too scared to try and leave anyway.”

“Wait - are you. Please tell me you aren’t serious,” I say, my brain finally catching up to what he just told me. Because there’s no way, no way, someone could do that to him.

“That’s when the panic attacks started,” he continues. “In the basement. Last year, they let me out,” he says, his eyes unfocused and leaking tears. “I have no idea why. But he still locked me down there when he got mad, kind of like how it started. I should have -” he breathes in choppy, “I don’t know - ran, I should have ran in the middle of the night. But I didn’t,” he says regretfully. “I couldn’t.”

“But…” I say dazedly. “But how are you in school now then?”

“My mom convinced my dad to let me go. He gave in, but he threatened me. He said that if I tried anything, told anything, that he would do a lot more than hit me,” he cries, biting down hard on his lip. He looks up at me, apparently finished with his story. I wipe my now tear-streaked face, but I’m not able to stop crying. I can’t, not with him looking at me with his sad, fearful eyes and revealing himself to me like this. I realize how much he must trust me.

“Does he still put you down there?” I whisper hoarsely, even though I already know what the answer is going to be. He nods shakily, letting loose another sob.

“Every time I do something wrong, that’s what I get. It’s my own fault,” he cries, and I shake my head furiously.

“That is not your fault! You - god, this is so wrong, what they’re doing to you. Ryan, god, I’m so fucking sorry,” I say, forgetting my earlier worries and pulling him closer. He immediately falls into me, wrapping his arms around my middle, his whole frame shaking with his sobs. “That’s - that’s why you don’t know things,” I realize suddenly. “That’s why, because you never had any contact with - with anything,” I say. It makes sense now. Of course he doesn’t know about those things, with nothing but his mom half-heartedly teaching him lessons from the fucking basement.

“I’m sorry, I was scared to tell you,” he mumbles into my shirt, and I hold him tighter.

“No, hey, it’s okay,” I soothe, gently running my hand through his soft hair. “Ryan, you have to tell someone what they’re doing to you. Someone who can help.”

“No,” he says immediately. “They’ll take me away, Brendon.” I’m torn, because I know he’s right and I can’t lose him, but he can’t stay there and continue to be abused.

“You don’t deserve it,” I mumble into his hair. “Nobody fucking deserves that.”

“He’s probably going to be mad when I get home tomorrow. He always lets me come here, but he’s always mad when I get back,” he whispers. Shit, I feel horrible now. I ask him to come here all the time.

“Ryan, why do you keep coming here if you know he’s going to hurt you?” I ask incredulously. He raises up, looking me in the eyes.

“It’s worth it to see you,” he says softly. I bite my lip, fresh tears falling down my face, and pull him tighter against me, cuddling him under the covers.

“Just sleep. Just forget about everything for a while, okay?” I whisper. Feeling brave, I lean down and carefully press my lips to his cheek, tasting salt from the tears on his face. I wipe them off with my sleeve and he sighs, leaning his head down on my chest.

“I know you’re the first person I’ve ever liked,” he starts, and my heart jumps in my chest. “But I think I got it right the first try.” I smile softly to myself. Ryan likes me.

He buries his face in my shirt, and I whisper, “It might have taken me a few tries, but I think I got it right too.”

* * *

I glare down at my test paper that the teacher just gave back to me. C. I got a C. Fuck.

I couldn’t concentrate at all. I studied but that doesn’t matter. All I can do is worry about Ryan. It’s the only thing that’s been in my mind ever since last night. I still can’t fucking believe it. Every time I think about what he’s doing to Ryan, that fucking psycho, my guts twist angrily, heat in my veins. How could someone do that to him?

I want to be happy about the fact that he likes me, but I can’t because I’m so fucking worried. What if he goes home today and his dad hurts him? What if he locks him down there again?

It’s a constant stream of thoughts running through my mind all day long.

I just want to protect him.

* * *

“What’s up with you and Ryan?” Spencer asks, lying down on my couch and looking up at me. I sigh, throwing my bag down and thinking about how he’s home right now, and how his dad could be hurting him right now. My hands clench into fists at my side.

“Nothing,” I shrug, trying to keep my voice calm.

“You two seemed pretty cozy when I woke you up this morning,” he raises an eyebrow. I just shrug again, not in the mood for talking. “I think you guys are kinda perfect for each other,” he muses. I snort and he looks offended. “What? He’s quiet and shy and you’re - well you used to be, anyway - loud and hyper. Opposites attract,” he says matter-of-factly. “You balance each other out.”

I actually agree with him but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. We sit in silence for half an hour. Spencer keeps giving me odd looks but I can’t stop thinking about Ryan.

“Brendon!” I hear Jayda call from the living room. “Ryan’s here, I just buzzed him in. He sounded upset!” she calls again. I jump up, running to the living room and spotting Jayda reading on the couch.

“What did he say?” I ask frantically.

“He just said he needed to see you,” she looks at me weirdly. “I’m sure he’s fine.” I walk over to the door and open it, waiting, because I’ve had this bad feeling in my stomach all day. I just know something is wrong. I can feel it.

The elevator opens and Ryan comes ambling out, hurrying faster when he sees me. He’s got that hat on again. I rush him into the house and he goes straight into my room, ignoring Jayda and Spencer’s calls of hello. They give me a weird look but I follow him into my room, shutting the door behind us.

“Hey, what’s-” I cut myself off and let out a breath when Ryan takes his hat off. The right side of his face is purple and swollen, with angry-looking red cuts decorating it. “Oh my god,” I say, walking over to him. I knew something was wrong. “Ryan,” I say softly, gently running a fingertip along his face. He’s looking at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help it, I lean forward and wrap him into a tight hug, but when he makes a pained sound I jump back. He’s holding his side, and I swallow.

I carefully lift up the bottom of his shirt and he lets me. My eyes go wider when I see an even more nasty-looking bruise along his side. It looks like he’s been kicked there. “Fuck,” I whisper. I drop his shirt, grabbing his hand instead.

“He got mad,” he chokes out. “It got really bad and I was scared… so I ran and came here. I’m sorry,” his bottom lip trembles with his words.

“No, I’m glad you came here,” I assure him, hugging him gently this time.

“God, I’m so worthless,” he says, finally breaking down and slumping against me, sobbing. “I never do anything right. They hate me. I’m such a fucking waste of space.”

“You are not,” I argue, pulling back and forcing him to look at me. “You’re not,” I repeat, shaking my head.

“I’m not important to anyone, Brendon,” he says, and his throat is scratchy.

“That’s not true - you’re important to me,” I say, meaning every single word of it. “You don’t even know how much you mean to me. I… Ryan,” I say softly, placing my hand that isn’t holding his on the uninjured side of his face. He looks at me through tearful eyes, and it’s about time I show him what he means to me. I lean forward, my breathing increasing, and then soft lips are on mine. He makes a small, surprised noise, probably because it’s his first kiss and he doesn’t know what it’s like. Shit, I’m his first kiss.

I slide my hand to the back of his neck and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He tentatively moves his lips against mine experimentally, and I sigh into the kiss. He tastes sweet, along with something else that I’m pretty sure is just Ryan.

I push him gently backwards toward the bed, not breaking the kiss, and he falls back onto it, taking me with him. I break the kiss for a second to crawl over him, and he doesn’t look sad anymore. He looks happy and his face is full of wonder, this being all new to him. I’m hovering over him now and he smiles a little, and even with his face bruised he’s still fucking beautiful. I lean down and kiss him softly again, and my stomach flutters. I’ve never had such a perfect kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” I say gently, smiling and running my thumb over his bottom lip. He breathes out slowly and I lean down, connecting our lips again. It’s soft and warm and so incredibly perfect; everything I’d known it would be. “Don’t leave,” I breathe against his lips. “You’re not going back tonight. You’re staying with me,” I demand, running my hand along his side. He nods quickly, grabbing the back of my neck and dragging me down again.

“I won’t leave,” he breathes out, kissing me with more confidence. I briefly think that I want nothing more than for him to stay with me tonight.

He does.

Chapter 8

A/N: Long chapter, I hope you guys like it! Also, got that alien bit from were_so_starvin, because that was her theory all along. Leave comments<3