Owned Part Twelve
They remained like that for many minutes, locked in each others arms, Brendon’s sobs coming unashamedly as Ryan clung to him, never ever wanting to let him go. Ryan’s head swam with images of what might have driven Brendon to this. “What happened baby?” He finally asked. “What happened?”
“They just…I couldn’t…I’m not part of them Ryan…I’m not part of them.”
“What Bren? Part of what? You’re not making sense.” Ryan took hold of Brendon’s shoulders and eased them apart so that he could look in to his friend’s eyes.
“I’m not a part of them. I can’t be. They’re so…they’re so…everyone was there Ryan…everyone. They had invited all of them round. Everybody, Ryan, everybody…and they sat me down and they…they laid everything bare Ryan…in front of everyone…EVERYONE Ryan!”
“What Brendon? I don’t understand? I’m so sorry…baby tell me…”
“They interrogated me Ryan.” He blurted out between sobs. “They told me I was wrong and bad and dirty and they laughed at me Ryan. They laughed when I tried to explain how I felt…about boys…about you Ryan. They laughed like I was six years old and I had a silly crush and I would get over it and I LOST IT Ryan. I just fucking LOST IT!”
There was something scary about the way Brendon said those last few words; a certain look in his eye which Ryan had never seen before.
“Brendon…what did you do?” Ryan swallowed the accusation from his voice.
“I pushed him. I shook him and I pushed him. And I punched his face. I punched his face Ryan.”
“Whose face Bren? Whose?” But Ryan already knew the answer to that question.
“My father’s.”
They sat in silence, neither of them able to look at the other. Brendon stared at a spot on the floor and dug his fingernails into the back of his hand until he drew blood.
“Don’t do that.” Ryan said and took Brendon’s hand by the wrist, pulling it away to stop it causing any further damage. “Is that why you wanted me to hurt you Brendon? To punish you?” Ryan couldn’t keep the worry from his voice. He was confused. It had seemed the right thing at the time. He should have questioned Brendon further, should have found out why he needed the pain so much, why he didn’t object when Ryan beat his back where the flesh is thin and taut.
Brendon nodded his head and started to cry.
“Bren, I’m not…you didn’t need to be punished Brendon…It’s not my place Brendon…fuck…” Ryan got to his feet and began to pace the room, hands tugging through his hair.
“Don’t be mad Ryan…I did a bad thing. I needed to be punished. I deserved it. I fucking punched him Ryan.”
“It’s not my place Brendon. It’s not my place.” Ryan didn’t know what else to say. He felt betrayed. He felt disgusted at himself. Suddenly it all seemed so very, very wrong.
“I have to go out. I need some air.”
“Ryan please…”
“I need some air Brendon.”
And with that Ryan was gone and Brendon was left sobbing on the floor of the bus, the pain on his ass and his thighs and his back not even registering in comparison to the pain in his heart.
* * * *
Brendon lay awake in his bunk, ears straining for the slightest indication that Ryan might be approaching. It was 3am and nobody was back; not Jon, not Spencer and not Ryan.
Brendon had sat on the floor in the living area for many minutes hoping that Ryan would come back and make everything alright, but then there were noises outside and Brendon had realised he still had his collar buckled around his neck and there were angry red patches all over his body. He had moved around the room slowly, clearing away any evidence of the act that had taken place there, then walked to his bunk and crawled under the covers, still not able to put his thoughts in order.
He didn’t understand why Ryan was angry. Ryan liked dominating him. This whole thing had been Ryan’s idea in the first place. Ryan had instigated it. Ryan had led Brendon down this path and opened his eyes to this world and now Ryan was angry and Ryan was gone and he, Brendon, did not understand.
Brendon pulled at the collar around his neck. It was buckled so tight it was choking him but he wouldn’t take it off, not until Ryan told him to.
There was a sound. The door to the bus opened. Someone approached and Brendon held his breath. It wasn’t Ryan. Those weren’t Ryan’s steps. It wasn’t Spencer or Jon either. The curtains were pulled aside and Brendon bit his lip because it was Pete and he was still wearing his collar and his back was red and sore and his face was wet with tears.
Pete sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at Brendon who had lost the power of speech.
“So a weird thing just happened…Ryan Ross just walked into a bar and ordered a whiskey. And Ryan Ross does not drink. Like ever.”
Brendon bit his lip harder and grimaced. “He did?”
“Yeah. It’s okay though. He didn’t drink it. He just sat and stared at it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So do you wanna tell me what’s up with that because Ryan Ross, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that boy is as stubborn as a mule.”
“I think I fucked up.” Was all Brendon could manage.
“I kind of figured that much out on my own. Does it have something to do with this?” Pete reached down and touched the collar around Brendon’s neck. Brendon wanted the bed to suck him down into hell. “Brendon, answer the question.” That tone again. Different coming from Pete but still that tone and Brendon couldn’t not respond, he just couldn’t.
“Yes.” He said in a small voice.
Pete did not pull his fingers away, but instead stroked gently at the collar around Brendon’s throat.
“You like wearing this don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well it just so happens that I know a little something about this.” He tapped the collar again. “I know quite a lot actually. This situation, you see, it isn’t altogether…unfamiliar…to me. Now there are all sorts of questions I could ask you here Bren…Did he hurt you? Make you do something you didn’t want? Ignore your safe word or push your limits too far? But the fact of the matter is Brendon that it’s Ryan. Fucking Ryan, Brendon so I am not even gonna ask those questions. Got it?”
Brendon nodded and sniffed.
“So what questions should I be asking, Brendon?” Pete looked at Brendon severely and it came to him, instantly, the reason why Ryan was angry.
“I used him.”
Pete’s face did not change and he waited patiently for Brendon to elaborate.
“I did a bad thing and I was angry at myself and I thought that if he hurt me I would feel better.”
“What did you do?”
“I punched someone. My Dad. I punched my Dad.”
“…okay. Wasn’t expecting that one. Why?”
“He humiliated me. He pulled me up in front of everyone and he humiliated me and he said that the way I feel about Ryan is just a crush and they all laughed…” The words sounded suddenly lame and Brendon bit his lip again.
“So you came back and…”
“Yeah.”
“Do you get why it’s bad Brendon?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So the only question that remains is, what are we going to do to make it right?”
Brendon opened his eyes wide and waited for Pete to answer his own question. He surely couldn’t imagine that Brendon knew what the answer was. At that moment the door to the bus opened and Ryan appeared, the anger gone from his eyes.
“Pete.” He stated.
“That’s my name buddy.”
“What’s up?”
“Funny you should ask. Young Brendon here was just coming to terms with his stupidity.”
Ryan smiled a half smile at Brendon that made Brendon think that everything might just be alright.
“I would have thought he had come to terms with that a little while ago. The rest of us have.”
Brendon blushed and pulled the covers up higher around his neck.
“Yes, well he’s slow, bless him.” Pete ruffled Brendon’s hair and Brendon grumbled under his breath.
“Pete said you ordered a whiskey.”
“Yeah. Stank. William drank it in the end.”
“How thoughtful of him,” commented Pete.
“Yeah, he’s all heart.”
The three of them were smiling now and absorbing a comfortable silence.
“So my boys are okay, right? Because obviously you guys liking each other is kind of important to me. Purely selfish reasons. Your album’s still selling well.”
“Gee thanks Pete,” Ryan smiled.
“What can I say? I’m a big hearted guy. Now Brendon,” Pete turned back to the boy in the bed, “back to that question.”
“What question?” Asked Ryan, sitting next to Pete on the bed, close to Brendon’s feet.
“Brendon was just going to suggest how we can make this right, weren’t you Brenny?”
Pete and Ryan looked expectantly at Brendon who pulled the covers up further still until only his eyes peeked out over the top of his duvet.
“Well?” Said Pete, continuing his wicked glare.
“Don’t know,” squeaked Brendon from under the covers.
“Awww,” Pete turned to Ryan, “he doesn’t know. Maybe we should give him a clue?” Ryan leant forwards and placed his hand on Pete’s knee so that they were both angled towards the boy hiding under the covers.
“You see Brendon,” Pete began, in a tone of voice that would have been better suited explaining why bullying is bad to a five year old, “punching your Dad was bad. Very bad. Quite surprised you had it in you to be honest. But that was between you and your Dad. Are you following so far?”
Brendon nodded his head so that his eyes disappeared under the covers and reappeared repeatedly.
“But then Brendon, you did another bad thing. Do you know what that was?”
Brendon shook his head quickly from side to side.
“I think you do Brendon.”
The head shook again.
“You abused our relationship,” Ryan blurted out. “I would never, ever have beaten you if I had known that that was why you wanted me to. Apart from anything else, I don’t necessarily think you did anything that bad. Your Dad was a jerk and you reacted. I’m not saying it was the right reaction but you certainly shouldn’t be punished for it Brendon.”
Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Awww,” cooed Pete, “have we confused you, little one?”
Brendon nodded again. The penny, albeit very, very slowly, was beginning to drop.
“I’m sorry Ryan.” Brendon said eventually, hoping that this was the right thing.
“I know you are.” Ryan leant right across Pete’s lap then and planted a soft kiss on Brendon’s forehead. “I know.”
Brendon smiled and pulled the covers down a little.
“So how hard did you beat him?” Asked Pete suddenly, and Ryan laughed, one of those rare, beautiful tinkling laughs that he saved for very special moments.
“Pretty fucking hard,” said Ryan.
“Tsk, with those spindly arms? I don’t believe you.”
Ryan and Pete looked at each other for a moment and Brendon thought he saw an understanding pass between them and he definitely thought that this did not look good for him.
“Up,” ordered Ryan, pulling the covers away from Brendon’s torso and rising from the bed. Pete followed suit and the two of them stood looking down at the collared boy who was trying to cover himself with his hands.
“Ryan? I don’t have any…”
“Pants? Good.”
Brendon looked from Ryan to Pete and then back to Ryan. He finally understood. Lowering his eyes to the floor he rose from the bed, exposing his naked body to them both, and stood before them, hands cupped in front of him, allowing himself one tiny bit of decency.
“Turn around.” The order came from Pete, not Ryan, but Brendon obeyed it all the same. He turned to face his bunk and leant forward automatically, pressing his palms flat on to the mattress.
“Jesus, Ross, you did beat him didn’t you?” Brendon cringed as he felt fingers run across his ass. They weren’t Ryan’s long delicate fingers. These were firmer, more calloused and rough. An involuntary whimper escaped Brendon’s lips.
“Awww, he makes cute noises!” Pete exclaimed and Brendon felt the rough finger tips trailing up his back to the red patch across his shoulder blades. He whimpered again; he wasn’t sure why, he didn’t need to whimper.
“Awww,” Pete repeated and Brendon blushed and smiled and shook a little bit.
“Hey!” Came Ryan’s voice. “I thought he had been bad!”
“Oh yeah.” Pete responded, and laid a hard smack on Brendon’s ass. Brendon yelped.