One-Night Stand Forever - [Nine]

[undermydesk]

Being the coward that he was, Ryan told his mother first. Just the two of them alone. He planned it on a Thursday evening when he knew his dad would be out playing poker. He didn't necessarily plan what he was going to do, but he was sure he was going to tell her. So he found himself standing in front of her as she sat patiently on her floral bedsheets in their country-style home, the cedar bedroom door shut tightly just in case.

Ryan picked at his thumbnail. His mother ran her nails along the comforter. She breathed in. He breathed out. He still didn't have a plan. He should've thought of one.

"I already know, Ryan."

His next breath felt more monumental than the first he had ever taken. His golden eyes searched hers for the answer to his unspoken question.

Mrs. Ross' bubblegum pink lower lip trembled and she kept her eyes trained on the oak floorboards. "You've been spending a lot of time with that William boy. I noticed that you two fight more often. Then there was that night I found you in the kitchen, and I couldn't even believe you ate all of that macaroni, but then you started gaining weight, and it was only in your stomach." Finally, they looked at one another. "I'm not stupid."

A knee hit the ground and another went with it, crashing into the wood with a force that resulted in a sound louder than Ryan's sobs.

"It's not William." He looked up at her with pathetic, tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Within seconds he felt her presence only inches from him and though his eyes had returned to his hands, he could see her hesitation, the wall of resistance between them, but he couldn't blame her even if he tried; the floors of their house had forever been smothered by broken glass. He was used to cut feet by now.

All she did was pat his back.

Then the doorbell rang, and like a dramatic horror flick, Ryan and his mother glanced at one another and then whipped their heads toward the noise. Following general script actions, he pulled himself to his feet and set off down the hall, wiping at his cheeks as he went. Socked feet slid along behind him.

"Spencer," he muttered instinctively before opening the door. The other boy was grinning. Ryan hoped the smile would fall once he noticed the other boy's glum expression, but it didn't. Ryan had no effect on him. It pissed him off. Stupid, happy, non-pregnant Spencer.

"Hi, Ryan! Hi, Mrs. Ross!"

The breeze from his mother's wave brushed past his ear. He scoffed.

Spencer, Mr. Oblivious, gasped in excitement and drank the outside of Ryan's house in with his blue eyes. "Your house is stunning."

With a nudge at his lower back, Ryan asked, "Would you like to come in?"

Spencer nodded. He took a step inside and immediately took off skipping down the hallway to admire each of the rooms in "the shithole". Ryan thought it was rude. His mother simply beamed. She clasped her hands together in front of her and gazed at Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. She didn't look away when she leaned over to Ryan.

"That's the father?"

And despite the fact that Ryan hated Spencer at that moment for being so goddamn peppy at all of the times he was busy sulking, he prayed and wished and begged some higher power to allow him to say, "Yes," and have it be 100% truthful. Hell, he would take that hyper Pete kid from Chemistry, the insanely sadistic little freshman Gerard from Art, Travis McCoy. Anyone but fucking Brendon Urie.

Since life just had to suck exponentially, he shook his head.

Spencer came running back down the hallway, nearly knocking his ripped jeans against Ryan's black ones, but halting in record time.

"Would you like to go to the zoo?"

"How did you find out my address?"

"George Ross! That's no way to treat a guest!"

The taller boy rolled his eyes.

Spencer remained with lips upturned, like a wax figurine, never changing. "I asked Brendon who asked Gabe who asked William. We're all friends now." If possible, he revealed more teeth.

Ryan stared. He wanted drugs. Spencer probably had some, seeing as he was as bright as a rainbow every second of the day. He wondered if they would make him forget about what he had earlier confessed to his mother. He would've been more relaxed if she had screamed at him. It would have provided insight into her thoughts. Having none made him anxious. He needed drugs.

"Yeah, zoo, sure."

The younger boy jumped a foot in the air, literally. "Sweet, I'll go get the car started. It will be a beautiful day."

It turned out that Spencer had a vintage, sunshine yellow VW bug. Ryan was less than surprised.

"Your neighborhood is so welcoming," Spencer sighed. Blue eyes scanned the corn crops to their right, then moved to a child splashing around in a mud-stained plastic kiddy pool while his mother smoked a cigarette in a tattered lawn chair.

Ryan sometimes convinced himself everything was alright by telling himself Spencer was only joking.

The day only grew worse when Spencer retrieved a few posters from the back seat of his car and handed a few to Ryan in the parking lot of the zoo. One read, Humans are animals, and humans have rights, so why don't animals?, and another, Animals deserve freedom, too!. The worst was, Murderers belong behind bars, not monkeys! Ryan cried a little bit.

Spencer reached a hand over the center console and massaged his protruding stomach. "Hopefully your baby will be able to flourish in a world where every creature is happy and free."

"I told my mom," he mumbled quickly. Even though he and Spencer hadn't yet reached a level of friendship, something in him decided to blurt the words for Spencer to hear.

Spencer gazed outside at the crowds gathering near the zoo entrance. "Life is gorgeous."

Ryan didn't know what the other boy was talking about, and didn't care that he might have been ignored, but he followed Spencer into the foggy morning awaiting them outside of the car, protest signs pressed tightly against his side.

***

"Let me get this straight," William said, giggling and tossing a cheese puff into the air and strategically curving his neck to catch it with his mouth as it came down. "You willingly stood outside of the zoo and protested against it?"

Ryan nodded and continued browsing through the shirts in his closet. He rarely found anything that fit him anymore, causing it to be even more difficult to locate something that would successfully hide his hideous bump. In fact, he was convinced the crowd surrounding him at the zoo was only interested in the pregnant boy, the rare statistic. The claustrophobic feeling provided him with more fervor for protesting; if that was what the lions felt like, then Ryan was going to oppose it, that was for damn sure.

"Can we go to the doctor today?" William asked. He always asked. The constant pleas to know the baby's gender were more than Ryan could handle. He had learned to ignore them.

"I'm horny."

William flipped through the pages of a nearby AP magazine. "Go find Brendon."

He didn't see Ryan's scorching stare.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Feline eyes met Ryan's and squinted as Will laughed coldly. "You did let him get you pregnant. Then a few weeks ago, he gave you that handjob. I'm sure he wouldn't mind blowing you right about now."

Ryan breathed in and clenched his fists tight by his hips. He turned slowly from the closet and stepped towards his bed. "I'm sorry that I was drunk off my mind!" he spat. "I'm sorry that I have goddamn hormones! I'm sorry that you have a fucking whore for a friend!"

"Ry, you know I didn't mean it like that," William tried, reaching out a hesitant hand in Ryan's direction.

"Actually," Ryan began, standing stiffly in place, his head down, "my mom thought you were responsible, since we fight all the time."

William snorted. Ryan did the same. Seconds later, the boys were rolling around on Ryan's mattress with hands on their stomachs.

A loud bang sounded around the room and two heads popped up from the bed, facing the now open door. It revealed a furious Mr. Ross.

"D-dad?" Ryan whimpered, fingers splayed upon his bare midsection, gripping the skin firmly.

The man's eyes slid down his son's body and rested on the boy's stomach. He trekked forward and shut the door behind him, then made his way to Ryan's side of the bed.

"Let's talk," he said, a stone-cold tone to his voice.

Ryan gulped and turned towards his best friend.

"William, too," his father added.

And Ryan had to repress the strong urge to sprint to his closet and lock himself inside and never come out, but he would never leave William; he would never just throw him to the wolves to save himself. He would offer up his own body first.

"What did you want to talk about?" he questioned innocently, head tilted up in order to see his father. The man was barely visible due to the blinding white cast on his skin by the sunlight pouring in through the window. Ryan was forced to lift a hand up to shade his eyes.

His father set off pacing around the room, ominous steel-toed boots scuffing the wooden floor as he went.

"You're pregnant. That much is obvious."

Surprisingly, the words had a foreign sincerity to them. One Ryan had never heard before, like his father was concerned or something of the sort.

Ridiculous.

"Oh!" his father exclaimed. Both boys jumped. "And you're a fag."

The room was drowned in deafening silence. Mr. Ross' breath began noisily escaping his nostrils. Ryan was holding his own. William just looked terrified.

"You know, I suspected things, ever since you started spending time with William. For one, he looks like a girl." The boy sitting adjacent to Ryan scowled. "I decided to ignore it. I told myself it wasn't true, that I didn't place such a disappointment into the world. But now this. And to think you were the one... the... 'inferior' of your relationship."

Ryan stood up. The action wasn't normal, especially not in situations such as this that involved his father, but his best friend was there, providing him with a sort of security blanket simply from his presence.

"Bottomed, Dad. Yeah, I bottomed. But it wasn't William. I had a one-night stand at a party a few months back, okay? My fault, not William's. So don't just go making assumptions and insulting my best friend."

Seeing the expressions flashing across his dad's face, Ryan suddenly regretted his actions. He had expected a sort of Hollywood ending: his mother waltzing in with a gun, William throwing a punch, Brendon flying in through the window dressed in a cape and tights.

His father roared with laughter. "You have confidence now? Well isn't that just fucking precious, defending your boyfriend and your baby. William," he snapped. "You can go home."

And knowing Will, Ryan sincerely hoped his friend wouldn't stand up for him. He begged with wide eyes. The long-haired boy nodded and escaped from the room with a rushed bounce in his step.

"I don't like to be backtalked, George. I guess you're too stupid to remember, yeah?"

Ryan didn't bother responding or apologizing. It would come anyway.

The man stepped closer. "Are you going to answer me?"

The creak of the screen door sounded through the bedroom. His mother was home. Not like she would help anyway.

An unrelenting hand wrapped around the front of Ryan's neck, clenching his trachea. Added force threw Ryan against the wall.

"Answer me!" his dad shouted. "Just say it! Yes, Dad. I'm a stupid fuck."

Ryan coughed. Blurs of color raced around the room in front of him.

Before he knew it, the hand was released and delicious air was flowing through his larynx. Still, his vision went black and he fell, scrabbling at the floor, desperate to stay conscious. He thought of the baby. He thought of Brendon.

"Ryan," Brendon said.

Clear in Ryan's mind, a regularly bright face was decorated with worry.

"Ryan," the image repeated. "Are you okay?"

"I- I'm going to throw up," he managed.

Brendon's head turned and a smudge of brown hair yelled, "Get him a bowl!"

All of the fuzzy pictures around him skidded to a stop. He found himself alone, kneeling on the flooor of his bedroom.

He briefly considered a crazy, seemingly realistic dream, until William emerged from behind the bedroom door with a small plastic bin he recognized from his bathroom.

"Here you go, Ry," William cooed, joining him on the floor and running a hand along his spine.

Ryan dry-heaved. Nothing came up. His throat protested.

"How is he?" a voice asked. Brendon. He stood, gasping, sweating, looking generally heroic at the door. "The cops are on their way." Ryan whined loudly. The cops interrogating him was the last thing he desired. At the wail, Brendon began to panic. "What's wrong?"

The ill boy shook his head.

"Anyways," Brendon continued, "I kind of hit your dad in the head with one of your frying pans."

Ryan laughed, eyes fixated on the floor under him. His life couldn't be anymore cinematic. He was sick of it. So sick of it, in fact, that even with the earlier craved superhero dress, Ryan wouldn't want Brendon there.

"Just leave," he panted. "I don't even know why the fuck you're here."

Brendon was shocked. Ryan could tell without glancing up. "Excuse me! I just saved your ass from suffocating to death and all you care about is my leaving?"

At last, Ryan lifted his head. "I could have saved myself!"

"Sure looked like it, especially with your face going blue."

A deep breath taken in order for Ryan to begin his next attack had William yelling, "Guys! Stop fighting! Jesus Christ!"

The pregnant boy's mouth slammed shut. Defeated, he sunk back into a seated position and gazed up at Brendon. The other boy raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you dare look at me like you're wondering what I'm doing when-" William placed a tense hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why are you at my house?" Ryan asked.

Brendon had to strain his ears to hear the question. His round eyes grew and a faint blush adorned his cheeks.

Dollface came to mind. Ryan resisted a smile.

"Um," he choked out. With a glance at William and another at Ryan, Brendon bit his lip.

Ryan imagined this is what he must look like around Brendon.

"I just wanted to know if you needed anymore money."

The seated boy stood up cautiously, swaying once his knees were locked. Brendon rushed to his side and offered him an outstretched arm. He appeared vulnerable at the moment, and if he was, Ryan was going to take advantage of that fact.

"That's the worst lie I've ever heard," he chuckled. He placed a hand on the forearm that had been presented to him, and in the process caught mahogany eyes flashing towards his lips, his midsection. "The baby won't even be born for at least another four months."

Brendon spoke quietly when he muttered, "I wanted to make sure."

"Why is that?" Ryan wondered aloud. "Because you don't want me to tell everyone? Because you don't want me to ruin your reputation?"

The anger boiling in the honey of Ryan's orbs matched that of his entire being.

He went on. "You're so fake. You act like you don't care about anything, but you do. You care about your image and you care about a bunch of other things that you don't want anyone to know about."

The two hadn't realized that they had been left alone in the room until Ryan took the scene in. Brendon followed.

"Okay, so maybe I care about the baby," Brendon whispered, as if the entire town were eavesdropping through the wall. "That doesn't mean I care about you. Don't get any whacky thoughts. It's not like I want to marry you or anything, I'm watching out for the well-being of the kid."

"Thank God," Ryan sighed. "I've been waiting for you to admit that for forever."

Brendon laughed nervously. "Truce?"

Light brown hair shook while Ryan's head bobbed up and down. "Truce."

A weight was instantly lifted from his shoulders, which, if literal, would have offered great relief to his sore back. He relaxed and allowed his grip on the other's arm to loosen, then felt his locked jaw introduce a grin. For the first time in the last five months, he experienced a sense of calmness, something he had never pictured himself feeling within a five-mile radius of Brendon Urie. Brendon's mouth mirrored Ryan's and the boys smiled at each other, and smiled, and smiled.

"This is the police!" someone shouted.

Ryan shoved Brendon away, all the while dropping his stupid, comforting, supportive arm.

With an accusing finger pointed at the other boy, he complained, "You dick! I can't believe you called the police!"

Previously quirked lips flipped upside down. "Sorry, Mr. I-Can-Take-Care-Of-Everything-By-Myself! Next time I won't bother coming over!"

"Good!" Ryan retorted. "I hope you never come back ever again!"

Brendon folded his arms over his chest. "I wouldn't even if I was starving and this was the last place with food!"

Outside of the door, William breathed out a sigh and let his head fall into his hands. He shook it once, twice, then set off to greet the cops.