(no subject)
Title: These Things They Can't Take Away
Fandom: Bandom
Pairings: Ray/Brendon
Word count: 1699
Warnings: Violence, some religious themes and implied homophobia
Summary: The first time Ray saw the kid was at one of the soup kitchens in the poor part of town.
Author's Note: Written for random_bandom . My good friend B betaed this, many thanks!
The first time Ray saw the kid was at one of the soup kitchens in the poor part of town. It was the night they had crusty rolls and minestrone, so it was busy.
He thought the kid was new, because of his neat haircut and dirty but not torn clothes. Then one of the volunteers dropped his wallet and the kid chased after him, and Ray knew for sure.
The first time Ray talked to the kid was the day the local Uniting Church held their second hand clothes drive. They always held it at the start of winter, and Ray always went to stock up on warm clothes.
Since that first night he’d seen the kid around, from time to time. He’d changed, slowly but surely. He was thinner, and tighter, more guarded, his smiles more fleeting.
Ray had three dollars for new clothes, three dollars and forty cents. He grabbed a pack of new underwear for a dollar and two pairs of new socks for fifty cents, and then he had a dollar and ninety cents for everything else. There was a thick woollen sweater for thirty cents and a long waterproof coat for fifty. Ray snagged them both and was looking for heavy jeans when he saw the boots.
They were gorgeous, heavy and black, the sort of boots that sold in stores for hundreds of dollars. He didn’t want them just because they looked good; he could tell that they were sturdy and the soles were thick and they would keep his feet warm. They would be in every way an improvement on the shoes he was wearing now.
The problem was he needed a sweater and a coat as well. He needed socks and underwear. He needed a hell of a lot more than three dollars and forty cents could buy. He could always buy what he could and hopefully get some more money to come back the next day, but all the good stuff would be gone by then.
Ray held the sole of the boot against his foot, because it would be much easier to walk away if they were too small. They weren’t, though. They were perfect.
Ray told himself he was being stupid. There were plenty of other shoes which he could afford and which would do the job perfectly well. He was about to put the boots down and look for something else when he realised someone was standing next to him.
It was the kid. He must have just arrived, because Ray hadn’t noticed him.
“Man,” he said, “Those boots are fucking sweet!”
“Yeah,” Ray agreed as he set the boots back on the table. He picked up the runners beside them; they were ugly and dirty, but they looked like they’d fit.
“You’re not getting them?”
“Nah.”
The kid picked one of the boots up and held it against his own foot like Ray had done. “Too big,” he said sadly. He put them back down and looked up at Ray.
“I’m Brendon,” he said, and he smiled again, smiled in a way that he hadn’t in months. Ray knew because he’d been paying attention, without even realising what he was doing.
“Ray,” he replied.
The first time Ray touched Brendon, it didn’t happen how he was hoping. Living on the streets comes with dangers, and Ray had learned to take steps to keep safe. So when he was walking down the street one evening and heard a scuffle happening in an alley on the other side of the road, he didn’t go closer or try to figure out what’s going on. He hid in a shadow and waited for it to be over.
He felt bad about it, especially when the sounds carried across the street and he could hear that someone was getting beaten up, but he knew he couldn’t help and there was nowhere he could get help. So he waited.
A few minutes later two figures in dark clothes scurried away, and Ray watched them go. He should leave, he knew he should, but his feet in their stupid filthy trainers wouldn’t move.
No one else came out of the alley, and Ray started to wonder if the fight had ended in someone being badly hurt. He reluctantly crossed the street and looked into the alley. It was dark and it wasn’t until he went right up to the figure slumped on the ground that he could tell who it was.
It was Brendon, curled up with blood on his face. “Hey, Ray,” he said. He could barely talk, and when he did it sounded like it hurt, but he still greeted Ray as casually as though they were just passing on the street.
“What the hell happened to you?” Ray asked, as he tried to get Brendon sitting up and figure out if anything vital was broken.
“Those guys...” Brendon coughed, and his face screwed up with pain. “They took my money. I found it, someone dropped a twenty on the footpath, but they took it.”
Ray was no doctor, not by a long shot. He figured out that Brendon hadn’t been stabbed and probably didn’t have any broken bones, and that was the extent of the care he could give. “Can you stand up?” he asked.
“I think so,” Brendon said, nodding his head bravely although he sounded unsure. He held up his left hand and Ray took it, pulling Brendon to his feet. He felt Brendon’s fingertips against his palm, so rough and callused, and nearly dropped him.
With Ray’s help, Brendon managed to stand up. He took a step towards the street and nearly fell again. Ray grabbed him, realising that Brendon wasn’t going to be able to walk by himself. “Where do you normally sleep?” he asked.
“There’s a place on Cooper,” Brendon said hopefully. Ray shook his head. That was a twenty minute walk for a healthy person; Brendon was never going to make it.
“I’ve got a spot not too far away. If you want. Just for tonight?” he offered tentatively. Brendon agreed at once, which made Ray angry, made him wonder. How was this kid still so trusting and stupid? He’d just been beat up for twenty dollars, hadn’t he learned by now to be cautious, be wary? But Ray wanted to keep Brendon nearby so he could make sure Brendon was safe, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
That night, he listened to Brendon breathe and he rubbed his hands together, feeling the wrongness of them in a way that was new. They were rough and he had calluses, but not the right ones.
The first time Ray kissed Brendon, it was New Year’s Day, and they were walking together to the bus station where Brendon kept his guitar in a locker. Ray had been relieved to learn that Brendon wasn’t completely reckless. He kept his guitar somewhere that was secure and only took it out to busk.
They passed a pawn shop and Brendon said; “If we could get some money together, they might have a guitar you could afford.”
“They don’t really like it when we go in, unless it’s to sell something,” Ray said shortly. They also didn’t like it when you lingered outside, waiting to see your guitar leaving in another person’s hands, but he didn’t tell Brendon that.
Maybe Brendon heard something in his voice, because he looked at Ray for a long time. “What?” Ray asked eventually.
“Nothing,” Brendon said, but then he ducked his head around and pressed his lips against Ray’s, and Ray had to grab onto Brendon’s arms so he didn’t fall over.
The kiss didn’t last long. They were standing right there on the street and Brendon pulled away after a couple of seconds. Ray had maybe spent some time thinking about what kissing Brendon would be like. Ray wanted to try that again, when they were somewhere private, when they had time to enjoy it.
“I... was that okay?” Brendon asked. He looked nervous and Ray realised he hadn’t said anything, had barely even returned the kiss.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. “That was... I never thought you would. Um. Yeah?” He could feel his face heating up and he felt like such an idiot, but Brendon just grinned at him like he’d said something articulate and meaningful, so Ray let it go.
“I was right,” said Brendon. “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. Um. I’ve never kissed a guy before.”
“No?” Ray asked absently. He was distracted by looking at Brendon’s lips, and had to shake himself out of the daze.
Brendon shrugged, his expression closed off. “Mormon family,” he said shortly. Ray didn’t push for more information. Brendon’s two words were the most personal information either of them had shared. Ray wasn’t sure what it meant to Brendon, having a family which was Mormon. He was raised Catholic, and the last time he went to a church was when he had his first confession when he was twelve.
The first time Ray realised he was in love with Brendon happened on a day they went busking together. They went to their favourite spot, where it was busy but not so much so that they got hassled, and there were raised flower beds where they could sit. Ray watched Brendon sing and play, and after a while Brendon held out the guitar and made Ray take it. He always got Ray to play something, and Ray was remembering more and more. It was funny how little he’d missed having his own guitar until he had the chance to play one again. He liked playing Brendon’s but it just wasn’t the same.
He played for awhile and Brendon sang along, and then he knew. It wasn’t dramatic; it didn’t descend like a tide. It felt like something he’d actually known all along. Brendon noticed him watching and smiled back at him. He sang the next verse while looking right into Ray’s eyes, and for the first time in a long time Ray let himself think about things he’d stopped believing in and stopped hoping for. He thought about Brendon.
Fandom: Bandom
Pairings: Ray/Brendon
Word count: 1699
Warnings: Violence, some religious themes and implied homophobia
Summary: The first time Ray saw the kid was at one of the soup kitchens in the poor part of town.
Author's Note: Written for random_bandom . My good friend B betaed this, many thanks!
The first time Ray saw the kid was at one of the soup kitchens in the poor part of town. It was the night they had crusty rolls and minestrone, so it was busy.
He thought the kid was new, because of his neat haircut and dirty but not torn clothes. Then one of the volunteers dropped his wallet and the kid chased after him, and Ray knew for sure.
The first time Ray talked to the kid was the day the local Uniting Church held their second hand clothes drive. They always held it at the start of winter, and Ray always went to stock up on warm clothes.
Since that first night he’d seen the kid around, from time to time. He’d changed, slowly but surely. He was thinner, and tighter, more guarded, his smiles more fleeting.
Ray had three dollars for new clothes, three dollars and forty cents. He grabbed a pack of new underwear for a dollar and two pairs of new socks for fifty cents, and then he had a dollar and ninety cents for everything else. There was a thick woollen sweater for thirty cents and a long waterproof coat for fifty. Ray snagged them both and was looking for heavy jeans when he saw the boots.
They were gorgeous, heavy and black, the sort of boots that sold in stores for hundreds of dollars. He didn’t want them just because they looked good; he could tell that they were sturdy and the soles were thick and they would keep his feet warm. They would be in every way an improvement on the shoes he was wearing now.
The problem was he needed a sweater and a coat as well. He needed socks and underwear. He needed a hell of a lot more than three dollars and forty cents could buy. He could always buy what he could and hopefully get some more money to come back the next day, but all the good stuff would be gone by then.
Ray held the sole of the boot against his foot, because it would be much easier to walk away if they were too small. They weren’t, though. They were perfect.
Ray told himself he was being stupid. There were plenty of other shoes which he could afford and which would do the job perfectly well. He was about to put the boots down and look for something else when he realised someone was standing next to him.
It was the kid. He must have just arrived, because Ray hadn’t noticed him.
“Man,” he said, “Those boots are fucking sweet!”
“Yeah,” Ray agreed as he set the boots back on the table. He picked up the runners beside them; they were ugly and dirty, but they looked like they’d fit.
“You’re not getting them?”
“Nah.”
The kid picked one of the boots up and held it against his own foot like Ray had done. “Too big,” he said sadly. He put them back down and looked up at Ray.
“I’m Brendon,” he said, and he smiled again, smiled in a way that he hadn’t in months. Ray knew because he’d been paying attention, without even realising what he was doing.
“Ray,” he replied.
The first time Ray touched Brendon, it didn’t happen how he was hoping. Living on the streets comes with dangers, and Ray had learned to take steps to keep safe. So when he was walking down the street one evening and heard a scuffle happening in an alley on the other side of the road, he didn’t go closer or try to figure out what’s going on. He hid in a shadow and waited for it to be over.
He felt bad about it, especially when the sounds carried across the street and he could hear that someone was getting beaten up, but he knew he couldn’t help and there was nowhere he could get help. So he waited.
A few minutes later two figures in dark clothes scurried away, and Ray watched them go. He should leave, he knew he should, but his feet in their stupid filthy trainers wouldn’t move.
No one else came out of the alley, and Ray started to wonder if the fight had ended in someone being badly hurt. He reluctantly crossed the street and looked into the alley. It was dark and it wasn’t until he went right up to the figure slumped on the ground that he could tell who it was.
It was Brendon, curled up with blood on his face. “Hey, Ray,” he said. He could barely talk, and when he did it sounded like it hurt, but he still greeted Ray as casually as though they were just passing on the street.
“What the hell happened to you?” Ray asked, as he tried to get Brendon sitting up and figure out if anything vital was broken.
“Those guys...” Brendon coughed, and his face screwed up with pain. “They took my money. I found it, someone dropped a twenty on the footpath, but they took it.”
Ray was no doctor, not by a long shot. He figured out that Brendon hadn’t been stabbed and probably didn’t have any broken bones, and that was the extent of the care he could give. “Can you stand up?” he asked.
“I think so,” Brendon said, nodding his head bravely although he sounded unsure. He held up his left hand and Ray took it, pulling Brendon to his feet. He felt Brendon’s fingertips against his palm, so rough and callused, and nearly dropped him.
With Ray’s help, Brendon managed to stand up. He took a step towards the street and nearly fell again. Ray grabbed him, realising that Brendon wasn’t going to be able to walk by himself. “Where do you normally sleep?” he asked.
“There’s a place on Cooper,” Brendon said hopefully. Ray shook his head. That was a twenty minute walk for a healthy person; Brendon was never going to make it.
“I’ve got a spot not too far away. If you want. Just for tonight?” he offered tentatively. Brendon agreed at once, which made Ray angry, made him wonder. How was this kid still so trusting and stupid? He’d just been beat up for twenty dollars, hadn’t he learned by now to be cautious, be wary? But Ray wanted to keep Brendon nearby so he could make sure Brendon was safe, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
That night, he listened to Brendon breathe and he rubbed his hands together, feeling the wrongness of them in a way that was new. They were rough and he had calluses, but not the right ones.
The first time Ray kissed Brendon, it was New Year’s Day, and they were walking together to the bus station where Brendon kept his guitar in a locker. Ray had been relieved to learn that Brendon wasn’t completely reckless. He kept his guitar somewhere that was secure and only took it out to busk.
They passed a pawn shop and Brendon said; “If we could get some money together, they might have a guitar you could afford.”
“They don’t really like it when we go in, unless it’s to sell something,” Ray said shortly. They also didn’t like it when you lingered outside, waiting to see your guitar leaving in another person’s hands, but he didn’t tell Brendon that.
Maybe Brendon heard something in his voice, because he looked at Ray for a long time. “What?” Ray asked eventually.
“Nothing,” Brendon said, but then he ducked his head around and pressed his lips against Ray’s, and Ray had to grab onto Brendon’s arms so he didn’t fall over.
The kiss didn’t last long. They were standing right there on the street and Brendon pulled away after a couple of seconds. Ray had maybe spent some time thinking about what kissing Brendon would be like. Ray wanted to try that again, when they were somewhere private, when they had time to enjoy it.
“I... was that okay?” Brendon asked. He looked nervous and Ray realised he hadn’t said anything, had barely even returned the kiss.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. “That was... I never thought you would. Um. Yeah?” He could feel his face heating up and he felt like such an idiot, but Brendon just grinned at him like he’d said something articulate and meaningful, so Ray let it go.
“I was right,” said Brendon. “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. Um. I’ve never kissed a guy before.”
“No?” Ray asked absently. He was distracted by looking at Brendon’s lips, and had to shake himself out of the daze.
Brendon shrugged, his expression closed off. “Mormon family,” he said shortly. Ray didn’t push for more information. Brendon’s two words were the most personal information either of them had shared. Ray wasn’t sure what it meant to Brendon, having a family which was Mormon. He was raised Catholic, and the last time he went to a church was when he had his first confession when he was twelve.
The first time Ray realised he was in love with Brendon happened on a day they went busking together. They went to their favourite spot, where it was busy but not so much so that they got hassled, and there were raised flower beds where they could sit. Ray watched Brendon sing and play, and after a while Brendon held out the guitar and made Ray take it. He always got Ray to play something, and Ray was remembering more and more. It was funny how little he’d missed having his own guitar until he had the chance to play one again. He liked playing Brendon’s but it just wasn’t the same.
He played for awhile and Brendon sang along, and then he knew. It wasn’t dramatic; it didn’t descend like a tide. It felt like something he’d actually known all along. Brendon noticed him watching and smiled back at him. He sang the next verse while looking right into Ray’s eyes, and for the first time in a long time Ray let himself think about things he’d stopped believing in and stopped hoping for. He thought about Brendon.