How Far Would You Run-Rydon-11

The Weather Today is Slightly Sarcastic

He's at school come Monday, with his sunglasses and a long-sleeved shirt.

Ryan.

Funny, I'm wearing long sleeves today too.

Without thinking, I run over and give him a hug, causing him to gasp quietly in pain. "Omigod, I'm so sorry," I say, touching my nose to his cheek. "I … I shouldn't have insisted we go to your house. I'm sorry. I—"

"Hey faggots! Some of us are trying to breathe here!" a cruel voice calls out, and Ryan and I spring apart as a group of fellow seniors laugh and smirk. "Get a room!"

Ryan blanches and, taking me by the arm, leads me down the hall to a secluded spot by the drinking fountains. "It's not your fault," he tells me, but the scabs on my wrist say otherwise.

"You should call the cops or something," I say.

"No!" Ryan shouts before dropping his voice to a whisper. "No. I … he's my father. I love him."

"He beats you!"

"He's still my father and I still love him," Ryan says quietly. "And he doesn't mean any harm—he just gets drunk sometimes."

"But—"

"I've put up with this since I was twelve; I can handle this."

We stand there in silence, waiting for the bell to ring, and I turn to Ryan, about to fret over him some more, but he cuts across me before I have the chance. "I think I'm going to ask Keltie out," he says casually. "Maybe that will help convince my dad I'm not a fag."

"But …" my voice trails off and I all I can get out is: "Why did you kiss me?"

Ryan blushes and I see his eyes harden behind his shades. "No reason," he mumbles. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. Don't read too much into everything, Brendon."

"I … yeah, you're right," I say quietly, burning with anger and shame. "Just don't talk to me for a couple of days, Ryan. I'm sick of being insulted when I'm around you."

The bells rings as I walk away, leaving Ryan to do god knows what. I know I'm not being fair to him, but he's not being fair to me and I can't put with this right now. Not today. Not after all that happened over the weekend.

I want to skip today but Spencer probably won't let me borrow his car again, so I walk home, hands jammed in my pockets. I'm not worried about getting jumped since Ryan's the only person I know to ever get jumped, and that was by his dad.

Walking home in the cold winter air is refreshing and numbing, and when I make it back to the apartment, I check to make sure Jon's gone before locking myself in the bathroom, because I'm craving the sweet relief that comes hand in hand with my razor.

You hurt him with every step you take.

I tease my raw skin with the side of the blade before digging in.

You hurt him with every breath you take.

The blood spills out in a thin line of prettiness.

Every single day, you're hurting him.

Turning my razor to one side, I carefully scratch out his name: R-Y-A-N.

Every minute he spends with you is a minute he'll spend getting beat.

His name is on me and now I belong to him.

You're nothing a parasite.

R-Y-A-N

A sorry, pathetic pain.

* * *

"Brendon?" Jon asks, seeing me curled up on the couch. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"I felt sick," I say, keeping my eyes on screen. I put in Casino Royale since we haven't returned it yet and watching it makes me think about Ryan. God, I am such an obsessive, unhealthy little boy.

"Bullshit," Jon says, sitting down beside me. "I saw you go to school with Spencer this morning. You're skipping, you naughty boy."

"Yeah, basically."

Jon rolls his eyes at my bluntness. "Oh, Brendon," he says. "What will we ever do with you?"

Lock me up in the loony bin and leave me there forever. Sounds like a plan to me.

"Oh hey, I don't remember this part!" Jon comments, gesturing at the TV.

"Yeah, 'cuz you fell asleep about halfway through," I mutter.

He waves his hand airily. "You're just cranky because you don't have Ryan to snuggle with," he says smugly.

And I don't know if I'll ever have him to snuggle with again.

The movie ends and Jon heads off to his room. I sit still on the couch and Spencer shows up around 4 o'clock. "I figured you had skipped," he says. "Since I didn't see you at lunch and Ryan was depressed all day and I figured that if you [i]were[/i] at school, you could catch a ride with Pete—see how you like that. Speaking of which, how did you get home?"

"I walked," I mumble, but that's really not what I'm thinking about.

"Ryan was depressed all day."

I guess I was really an asshole to him today, but I figure he'll bounce back as soon as he asks Keltie out and she says yes.

"Ryan was depressed all day."

Yeah. Well, Ryan, you're not the only one.