The One Thing I Never Expected - Chapter 17
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon (Gabe/William, tiny bit of Joncer)
POV: 1st, Brendon's
Summary: Ryan is Brendon's best friend, they grew up together. But Ryan is different. An accident when he was a child left him deaf. Brendon has always taken care of Ryan, but now he's starting to care for Ryan in a different way...
Disclaimer: Fiction, I own nothing. It's not real.
Author's Note: At the end.
Masterpost My Tumblr
Chapter 17
I hate hospitals. I always have. It’s such a depressing place. It’s scary knowing people die here every day. It was hard enough for me when Ryan was in here two years ago. I’ve never had to stay in a hospital overnight before. Actually, the only time I’ve ever even been a patient here was when I broke my arm in the fifth grade.
I tossed and turned all night; the bed is uncomfortable, but it makes it better that Ryan is beside me, sleeping quietly. I’ve been thinking about how bad it’s going to hurt to go to the bathroom. I can barely even move without feeling the pain.
The door creaks open, and my gaze moves over to it, seeing William and Spencer peeking in. When they see that I’m awake, they quietly step in, shutting the door behind them.
“Hey,” Spencer whispers, noticing that Ryan is still asleep.
“Hi,” I manage.
“God, you sound like you’ve been gargling nails,” William mumbles.
“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes darting down. I glance at Spencer. “Didn’t see you or Jon at the party last night,” I mention.
“Oh. Yeah, we decided to skip it…” he says, sounding uncomfortable. “I would have come last night, but I was asleep by the time Will texted me, and- and I’m really sorry, Bren,” Spencer blurts out, his voice dangerously close to being shaky. I blink hard. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you-"
“It’s okay, Spence,” I croak. He darts over to me and eyes me for a second.
“Can- can I. I just-" he breaks off, holding his arms out toward me. I smile a little and outstretch my arms to him, meeting him for a hug. He lets out a dry sob, squeezing me tighter. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and I can tell by his voice that he’s crying.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“No, no it’s not,” William says quietly. “You’re such a good person; it shouldn’t have happened to you.”
“It shouldn’t happen to anyone,” Spencer mumbles.
“Bren?” I hear from beside me. I turn around to see Ryan blinking up at me sleepily. I smile a shaky smile.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” he whispers, touching my cheek. He raises up and kisses me. When he pulls back, he looks over at our visitors. “Hey guys.”
“Hey. How’re your hands?” William asks.
“His hands?” Spencer adds. Ryan raises up his bandaged hands, and Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up.
“He beat the living shit out of Chris,” William answers. I swallow at the mention of the name, blinking to keep my eyes focused.
“Really?” Spencer asks, looking shocked, but impressed.
“I know, right?” I say. Ryan smiles a little, playing with my hair.
“Little Ryan’s tougher than he looks,” William shrugs.
“Nobody hurts him,” Ryan mumbles, so low I could barely make it out.
“How…” William swallows, “how are you feeling, Bren?”
“Been better,” I half-smile. William doesn’t laugh. He just shakes his head, looking like he wants to speak but can’t. He sits on the edge of my bed and I can see that his eyes are watery.
“God, Brendon,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”
“I really wish everyone would stop saying that,” I rush out.
“It’s just- you’re my best friend, Bren. The thought of someone hurting you-” he breaks off, taking a breath. “If I’d just gotten there sooner-”
“I really don’t think he wants to talk about this right now,” Ryan whispers, and I’m silently grateful that he can read me so well. William stares at me a little longer before nodding.
“I love you, Bren,” he mumbles as he leans in to hug me. I return the hug quickly, finding that it’s something I didn’t realize I actually needed.
“Love you, too,” I say as William moves off the bed and I glance over at Spencer. The way he looks is equal to that of a sad kitten. His bottom lip is trembling and his face is tear-streaked. It’s weird to see him full of so much emotion when I’m used to furious glares and incessant bitching. I smile and hold out my arms for him again, and he runs quickly over to my side, crushing me.
“Who knew you were such a big softy, eh?” I say in Spencer’s ear. He laughs a little and sniffles.
“I know I’m a bitch, but I really love you,” he mumbles into the material of my hospital gown. I ruffle his hair.
“You really are a bitch,” I joke.
“A flawless bitch,” he replies half-heartedly, making me laugh softly. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I’ve got my friends. I’ve got my mom. I’ve got Ryan. I can make it through this.
***
When I got released from the hospital the next day (they kept me another night) they wheeled me out in a wheelchair. Kind of embarrassing. My brain just kept going in and out of focus during the ride back home. Ryan sat with me in the backseat and held my hand, running his thumb over the back of it gently. I like that he doesn’t try to make me talk; doesn’t expect anything from me. He just stays with me and shows his affection, and that’s exactly what I need. The sweet little gestures, him rubbing my back, holding my hand; it’s soothing.
When we get home, I head straight upstairs to our room, wincing every time I take a step up. I can see Ryan cringing from the corner of my eye, but I bite my lip and ignore it.
I’m out of school for the next week. I think my mom got Ryan out for a few days as well, but not the whole week. Then the next week we’re out for Thanksgiving, so at least I get a break from school for a while. I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving. My entire family is coming to our house this year, which has never happened. We usually go to visit them. They all live in Utah. Yep, Mormon. So naturally, they already disapprove of my mother and myself for not choosing the same religious path as they have. They always hated my dad because they blamed him for my mother leaving the Mormon faith, when in reality she hadn’t believed the way they had since she was sixteen. Still though, they always include us.
But the reason I’m really nervous is because they still don’t know I’m gay, and I have a feeling I know how they’re gonna react to that.
My dad didn’t have any family when he married my mom, so it’s just hers that we deal with now. And they’re all Mormon. All of them. It’s a nightmare.
They’ve also never met Ryan because like I said, we always went to visit them, not the other way around. So I definitely can’t wait to see how this all plays out. Like I give a shit anyway.
“You wanna watch a movie?” Ryan asks when we’re in our room. I slip my shoes and jeans off and crawl under the covers, sighing in comfort.
“Yeah,” I agree. “You pick,” I add as an afterthought. He almost always picks a horror movie, but I don’t even have the energy to care. He looks through the giant stack of movies before choosing one and putting it in, also taking his shoes and pants off and crawling in beside me.
“You feeing okay?” he nearly whispers. I consider the question for a minute. Am I feeling okay? Physically, not really. A little better, but I’m still in pain. As for how I’m feeling…well. That’s complicated. I feel worthless, really. I feel used. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.
“I’m fine,” I lie. There’s no point in worrying him. He doesn’t look like he believes me anyway.
“I’m not saying you have to, but if you want to talk about…anything, you know I’m here,” he says, putting his arm around me. I sigh and lean into him a little more. It’s weird having the roles reversed; Ryan taking care of me for once. I don’t think I can remember a time where he’s been the one with his arm around me. It’s nice though. I like it.
“I know,” I reply. And I do know. He’s always been there for me. “So, what God-awful movie did you put in this time?” I joke. He chuckles a little beside me, and I can feel the vibrations from his chest where my head is resting on it. He brings a hand to my hair. He doesn’t answer me, and when the movie starts to play, I kind of want to cry.
It’s Beauty and the Beast. It’s my favorite movie, and Ryan hates it. He really hates it, and he never watches it with me. He always refuses, every single time I ask. I know it’s such a small thing to get emotional over, but I still feel like crying. I sit up and look at him; he’s got a knowing smile on his face.
“You’re really going to watch it with me?” I ask, making sure he’s serious. I don’t know why this is a big deal. It’s just a movie. But Ryan is crazy about movies, and if he hates one, he won’t watch it. He just won’t.
“I’m really going to watch it with you,” he smiles. I smile a huge, one hundred percent real smile, the first one in days, and it kind of makes my jaw hurt. His own smile gets bigger when he sees mine.
“God, I love you. Why are you perfect?” I babble, tackling him with a bone-crushing hug. “As stupid as it sounds, this means a lot to me,” I mumble into his neck. He squeezes me tighter.
“It’s not stupid,” he mumbles back. I pull back a little and he cups my cheek. “I’m sorry I would never watch it with you,” he says, and I kiss him.
“It’s okay, you’re watching it with me now,” I wave it off. “Even if it is only out of sympathy,” I half-joke. He makes an indignant sound of protest.
“It is not!” he argues. “It’s because I love you, asshole.”
“Aw, Ry, you’re so sweet,” I reply sarcastically. He huffs out a laugh.
“I’m only trying to make you feel better. That’s my job, right?”
“You’ve already made me feel so much better,” I say seriously, and it’s not a lie this time. When it’s quiet and I’m left to my thoughts, they always seem to go back to two nights ago, and it makes me want to not exist. But then Ryan will smile at me, and it all goes away for that moment. And ever since we got home, he’s made me feel so much better. I feel lighter, like it’s okay to laugh. I feel like it’s not wrong to have a smile on my face.
I bury my head back into his chest, and as soon as the movie reaches the part with the first song, I sing along quietly. Ryan kind of freezes, and I’m about to ask what’s wrong until I realize that this must be the first time he’s ever heard me sing. It’s weird; when he couldn’t hear, I’d sing all the time. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. But since he got his hearing back, I haven’t been. I can’t believe he hasn’t asked me to, seeing as how he used to tell me so many times how badly he wanted to hear me sing. I slowly lift my head up so I can look at him, but I don’t stop singing, I just raise my voice a bit.
He’s watching me with his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. People tell me all the time that I’m a great singer. I don’t see the big deal. I think I’m good, yeah, but it’s not like I have the voice of an angel or anything. The song ends and I smile at Ryan. He looks like he might cry. It’s like the first time he heard my voice all over again.
He clears his throat and smiles back at me, still looking overwhelmed. “You’re so amazing, Brendon. I can’t believe I had forgotten about hearing you sing, I. I’m kind of at a loss for words, here,” he shakes his head slowly.
“I’ll be singing every song in this movie, just so you know,” I inform him, kissing him on the cheek before I return my head back to its original position on Ryan’s chest. He laughs softly and puts his hand on my hip, squeezing a bit.
“I have no complaints,” he says with a smile in his voice.
About halfway through the movie, Ryan laughs and I look up at him, scrunching my eyebrows. “It’s just,” he smiles, “this movie isn’t so bad when I’m watching it with you.” My insides kind of melt a little. He is so good at doing that, honestly.
“’Cause I make everything awesome,” I shrug.
“You do,” he laughs, pushing his fingers past the waistband of my jeans, just touching the skin there below my belly button, nothing more. But it still makes my stomach flutter.
“Boys?” my mom calls from outside the door.
“Yeah?” I call back.
“Is it, um…can I come in?” she asks awkwardly.
“Yeah,” I repeat. We don’t move. I keep my head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps his fingers grazing my skin. My mom opens the door and steps inside, a smile creeping on her face when she sees us.
“Whatcha watching?” she asks.
“Beauty and the Beast,” I say excitedly, and she smiles some more as she sees my improved mood.
“Wow. He finally convinced you to watch it, huh?” she asks Ryan, who just smiles and looks at me like I’m the best thing in the world. I love that look; it’s the one that’s only for me.
“Well, I just came to tell you that dinner’s ready.”
“Oh good, I’m starving,” I say, laughing a little as my stomach growls as if on cue. “What are we having?”
“Parmesan chicken,” my mom answers, smiling knowingly at me, because she knows it’s my favorite. “And I made pie!” she adds proudly.
“Sweet,” Ryan laughs. I grab the remote and pause the movie, stretching out a bit. Ryan maneuvers around me and hops off the bed, holding his hands out for me to take. I inwardly sigh at how amazing my boyfriend is. I take his hands and allow him to pull me up and put an arm around my waist as we follow my mom down the stairs.
I can walk on my own, of course, but it still hurts a bit, and Ryan refuses to leave my side. I act like it’s annoying, but I secretly love it, and I think he knows that.
We all sit down, and my mom’s already fixed two plates for Ryan and myself. I watch my mom smiling to herself, getting drinks for us from the fridge, and I wonder if it’s a fake smile. I don’t think it is. I think she feels better knowing that I’m feeling better. But it just dawns on me how much I need her. I’m not afraid to admit that. I need my mother. She does so much for me that I take for granted, which makes me think of Julie, and how sudden her death was. It makes me appreciate my mom that much more.
“Did you forget how to use a fork?” Ryan asks me, snapping me back to reality. I see that I’m staring at the plate in front of me blankly. Ryan smiles sweetly and pats my back. “That’s okay, sweetie, I’ll show you how,” he says playfully. “See, you just take the fork like this and put it in your hand-"
“Shut up, you idiot,” I laugh, grabbing the fork from his hand where he was demonstrating it. He laughs too, teeth showing and all, and I find myself feeling that much better.
“Oh, I took off work tomorrow,” my mom interrupts when she sits down, smiling at us. “I thought maybe we could all stay in and order pizza. Watch some movies. Just have a family night, you know?” A family night. That makes me smile a little. We’re a family. Maybe a little abnormal, seeing as one member of said ‘family’ is my boyfriend/best friend, but hey, who needs normal?
“That actually sounds really nice,” Ryan says, and I agree, nodding my head.
“Yeah, we should probably have some real family time before we have to fake it all during Thanksgiving,” I joke. My mom gives me a faux reproachful look and starts laughing.
“Now Brendon, you know how much we adore our family members,” she contributes to the joke, and I laugh. Then my smile fades as I think of something.
“You don’t think they’ll be too mad about it when they find out, do you? Me and Ryan?” I clarify. My mom’s smile falters for a second, just a second, but I catch it.
“No, no,” she assures me. “It’ll be fine, honey.”
“Mom,” I say quietly. “They’ll probably disown me. Or leave.” It looks like she’s going to disagree with me again, but then she stops, and she gets this thoughtful look on her face.
“Then that’s their problem. I love you both and I’m proud of you both, and that’s all that matters to me,” she states simply. Ryan looks over at me and smiles. For about the billionth time, I think about how lucky I am to have such an amazing mother.
“Thanks,” I say softly. She just smiles back at me.
“Um, mom,” I say, not exactly sure how to word this. She looks up at me. I take a deep breath. “Could you not tell them about…what happened?” I finish weakly. I don’t want my whole family to know. I’ve already had enough sympathy; I don’t need any more.
“Of course,” my mom says, like she would never think of mentioning it anyway. I nod, staring down at my plate. I managed to not think about it all day, but now it’s back, gnawing at the back of my mind. It’s inevitable, I suppose, to think about it. I wonder if the images will ever go away, or if they’ll stain my thoughts forever, like spilled ink on the page of a book.
Ryan squeezes my thigh under the table and sends me a reassuring smile, like he knew exactly what I was thinking, and I remember to just breathe.
***
It’s the next morning and I wake up to something I never thought I’d wake up to ever again; my mom singing.
When I was little, before my dad died, my mom used to get up early and make breakfast every single morning, and she’d always turn on the radio and sing as loud as she could while she cooked. I definitely get my voice from her. I’d always wake up with a smile on my face, because it just reminded me of how happy she was. Her voice would ring out strong and clear, carrying all the way up the stairs to my room. She’d go up and open my door first, so I would be able to hear her. Sneaky, eh? She always told me to be creative with everything I did. She said being woken up to singing rather than an alarm clock would instantly brighten your morning. She was right.
Anyway, when my dad died, the singing stopped, just like that. I took it as a sign that she was no longer happy. I asked her about it, but she just said that it reminded her of him, because it was something he loved about her. They met after he saw her singing in a play in high school, and he always said that was what first drew him to her. I love that story. My mom never sang in the mornings after he was gone, so you can imagine my surprise when I blink my eyes open, not believing what I’m hearing.
I turn over to tell this to Ryan, but he isn’t there. I frown, thinking I should’ve realized that sooner because my side was cold. I stretch and get out of bed, making my way to the stairs. The singing stops when I’m halfway down, and I hear voices talking instead. I stop at the bottom step and listen.
“Brendon will be happy when he wakes up, you know,” I hear Ryan say. “He tells me all the time how much he’s missed your singing.”
“I suppose it’s time for me to get back to my old self,” my mom says, and I can tell she’s smiling. “Plus, Brendon deserves something to smile about.”
“He does,” Ryan says softly.
“I’m so proud of you, you know,” my mom suddenly says, and I can hear the pride radiating from her voice.
“Me?” Ryan asks, obviously confused.
“Yes, you. Everything you’ve been doing for him, it’s amazing. He wouldn’t be doing half as well as he is if it weren’t for you. You love him. I can see that in every little move you make around him, and I’m extremely grateful for that. I’m glad that my son has someone so amazing. And I’m glad you have him, too,” my mom finishes.
“He’s the most amazing person I know. I’d probably be dead if I didn’t have him,” he says quietly. My mom pauses. I feel an ache in my chest as he says the words.
“I love you just as much as I love Brendon, sweetie. You’re like a second child to me, as weird as that may sound,” she chuckles, Ryan following suit.
“You’ve raised me just as much as my own mom did, Grace. And I’m lucky to have someone like you,” Ryan says. I hear footsteps and then I just know that my mom is suffocating Ryan with a hug. A few seconds later, I hear the singing start back up and I smile to myself, walking into the kitchen.
I’m glad that Ryan and my mom are so close. I never have to worry about my boyfriend and my mom not getting along.
“Do my ears deceive me?” I say playfully. “Is my mother- is she singing?” I gasp. My mom smiles, hugging me, but keeps singing. I walk over to Ryan and he smiles playfully at me and drags me down for a kiss, and then proceeds to pull me into his lap. I laugh and struggle a little, but he keeps his hold firm and puts his head on my shoulder.
“Stop squirming, we’re eating like this,” he orders. I huff a little and I hear my mom laugh lightly. I eye Ryan’s coffee for a second before snatching it up and taking a gulp. Ryan makes a dying whale noise at his loss of life source and I smile innocently at him.
“Sharing is caring,” I say, pecking his nose, and he cracks a smile. Something about this seems so…domesticated. But I enjoy it all the same. There’s a constant nagging at the back of my head saying that I shouldn’t be happy. I shouldn’t laugh and smile, because I don’t deserve it now, but I try to block it out as much as I can and focus on keeping my good mood. Ryan is happy. My mom is happy. I don’t need to ruin it for them. This is going to be a good day. I’ll make it a good day. When I see the way Ryan is smiling at me, I don’t think it’ll be that hard.
Next Chapter
***
A/N: I'm sorry this took ten years; I had writer's block. Dx