Something Worth Living For - Chapter 5

[ericasaur]

Author: ericasaur
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 1st, Brendon’s
Summary: Brendon hates his life. Ryan does too, only Brendon doesn’t know that. What he does know is that something is wrong with Ryan Ross, and he’s determined to find out what that is.
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Beta: were_so_starvin
Author’s Notes: At the bottom.

Masterpost

Chapter Five

“We’re going to a party,” Spencer announces with a flourish and a cheesy grin. I barely look up from my book, giving him a hum of acknowledgment.

“Have fun,” I mumble distractedly, because I’m just getting to the part where the guy drinks the drugged water and passes out. I’ve read this story countless times, but it’s one of my favorites.

“You’re coming with us,” Spencer says in a tone no less than demanding. I finally look up from my book with a huff, sending a glare his way for interrupting me.

“No, I’m reading,” I scowl, narrowing my eyes at him before dropping them back down to the page I’m on, inwardly cursing him when I can’t find the sentence I was on.

“Brendon, you can read whenever you want.”

“I don’t want to go,” I stress. “I don’t like parties. Or people.” I think for a second before adding, “Or socialization.” I can practically feel his eyes rolling.

“What book are you reading that’s so important?” he asks, peering at the open, tattered book in my hands. I sigh, holding up the cover for him to see.

“Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe,” he reads aloud, frowning. “Didn’t he write that story we had to read in like seventh grade about the murderer who felt bad or something?”

“‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’” I supply for him, nodding indulgently.

“Yeah, that. Is that what you’re reading?” he asks, probably not really interested, but I answer him anyway.

“No, I’m reading ‘The Pit and the Pendulum;’ it’s about a guy in a torture chamber,” I explain. His face scrunches up.

“Are all his stories so…” he searches for the right word.

“Dark?” I suggest. “Yeah, most of them. But that’s why I like them,” I shrug. He stares at me for a moment before sighing and deciding that I’m not going to give in. He walks out of my room with a half-hearted wave. I sigh in content, burrowing into my blankets and going back to my book.

I’m almost to that point of being immersed in the book again, where you aren’t really aware of your surroundings, being completely sucked into the story, but I’m interrupted by my phone. I actually growl. Can’t I just read?

I kind of forget my annoyance when the screen on my phone says, ‘Ryan.’ I’m a bit surprised because he’s never been the one to call me, and I’ve only called him a few times. I smile a bit cautiously to myself, answering, “Hello?”

“Um, hi,” he says almost timidly. “I hope I’m not bothering you.” I glance down at the book in my hands, shutting it and tossing it aside before snuggling farther into my nest of blankets I’ve created.

“No, not at all,” I answer pleasantly. “What’s up?” I can feel him hesitating, even through the phone, and maybe something’s not right.

“Do you think, um,” he starts, sounding kind of scratchy and worn. “I mean, would it be alright if I maybe… stayed at your place tonight?” he asks. I can tell that it’s taking a lot for him to ask this. I can hear the timidity, the ever lingering hesitance that seems to fucking live in him. I’m so tired of hearing that hesitance. I’m tired of him feeling like he’s a burden, like I’m going to snap at him if he so much as asks me a question. I want to know why he’s always so scared.

“Sure, of course,” I finally answer. “Um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers too quickly. “Yeah, I just, um. I don’t want to be home tonight.” I pull on my hair, so fucking frustrated and confused because I want so badly to know what it is that’s wrong with him, because there is something, and I know it. I remember how he would tell me he ‘wasn’t allowed’ to go anywhere and that just confuses me even more.

“Are you sure your parents don’t mind?” I ask. He makes an uncomfortable little noise.

“I had to practically beg my mother,” he answers. “I just, um. I have to be home right after school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “Do you need a ride? I could come get you,” I offer.

“No,” he instantly says. “No, no, I’m fine. I’ll uh, take the bus.” I frown to myself, wondering who would rather take a bus than a quiet, clean car.

“But-”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit!” he cuts me off, hanging up before I can protest anymore. I stare at my phone, watching the name blink, signifying that the call has ended. My mouth opens and closes and I finally sigh, tossing the phone aside and getting up to go into the living room.

I see my mom lounging on the couch, watching TV. She does that a lot when she’s home. She likes to relax since she’s always working. But she does spend a lot of time with Jayda and me. “Hey, Brenny,” she smiles when she sees me. I put my hands on my hips, looking at her petulantly.

“Mother, I thought we had discussed the possible revocation of that little gem of a nickname?” I lift an eyebrow.

“’Possible’ being the keyword there,” she grins up at me. My eyes roll of their own accord- a natural reflex when it comes to my mom. All playful, of course. I love her to bits.

“I just came to let you know Ryan is staying over,” I inform her.

“You two have been spending a lot of time together,” she muses, flicking her accusing gaze to my innocent one.

“Well, I’m pretty much the closest friend he’s got,” I shrug. My mom sits up then, looking at me seriously.

“You’re different around him,” she says thoughtfully, almost considering.

“How do you mean?” I didn’t really think I was any different around him.

“Well, the way you’ve changed so much this past year- I still don’t know what caused that, by the way- has been like a complete turnaround. You used to be just like your sister. You’d smile, laugh, joke around; you actually had a personality,” she jokes, poking me. “You were caring, Brendon, and sweet. I don’t know what happened, but now you’re just like this- like this emotionless robot.” I flinch a little, not expecting her to say something like that to me, and it stings. It’s not like I don’t know that. It’s just- it’s not like I can help it.

“Nothing happened, specifically,” I say quietly. I feel weird talking about this out loud, because of course everyone knows. Everyone knows that I’ve changed, but we never talk about it. It’s like this unsaid thing that kind of lingers in the air, but nobody grasps onto it, nobody tries to comprehend it. “I just got sick of it all, Mom. I want something important enough to actually make me care about my life,” I stress to her. She looks sad, maybe sympathetic, but I’m not concerned with that. There’s no reason for people to pity me; I’m not some lost soul, I’m just a person who doesn’t know what the fucking point of his life is.

“What I was saying is that when you’re around that boy, you’re different; not completely like your old self, but closer to it than I’ve seen you since then,” she smiles encouragingly. “He makes you laugh, which is something I haven’t seen you do in months,” she shakes her head incredulously. “You’re nice to him, and careful, like he’s this delicate little thing.”

“He is,” I mumble, but she continues.

“You care about him, and I can see it,” she says knowingly, causing my cheeks to get hotter, resulting in my face resembling a tomato, I’m sure.

“Mom,” I say embarrassedly. “I don’t… like him.” She doesn’t look convinced. She knows about the whole ‘not straight’ thing. I told her two years ago. She was a little uncomfortable with it, but it seemed to calm her down a bit when I said that I did like girls, I just like boys too. She’s fine with it now, though.

“I didn’t say that,” she sing-songs playfully. “But obviously it’s on your mind.” I hang my mouth open accusingly at her. She can so easily manipulate me, and it’s not fair.

“I just want to figure him out,” I sigh resignedly. “Something’s really off about him.”

“Maybe he’ll tell you eventually,” she suggests, patting my hand.

“Well the last time I asked him, he had panic attack,” I look at her pointedly.

“Okay, so maybe don’t push him,” she relents. I hum, turning to watch TV with her.

A few minutes later the buzzer goes off, and I know it’s Ryan, so I buzz him in without answering it. I open the door, leaning in the doorway and waiting. After a couple of minutes the elevator opens, revealing a frazzled-looking Ryan, a pageboy cap on his head and a bag over his shoulder. He’s soaking wet. Did it rain? I look out the window at the end of the hall of the apartment building to see that it is indeed raining- pouring, actually. Ryan looks a bit morose.

“I was going to take the stairs, but you do live on the fifth floor, and I’m kind of f-freezing,” he chatters. I just notice that he’s shaking a bit. God, did he-

“Did you walk here, in the rain?” I ask incredulously, taking his bag and leading him quickly into the apartment.

“Um, y-yeah,” he grimaces. I turn to face him, a scolding look on my face.

“Why did you do that?” I ask a bit angrily. “I offered to drive you. Now look at you,” I gesture to his soaking, shaking form. His eyes drop down.

“It wasn’t raining when I left,” he mumbles.

“So?” I lift my hands up. “You said you were taking the bus,” I remind him, crossing my arms.

“I know, I know,” he says apologetically, shying away from me.

“You’re probably going to get sick now,” I gripe, bringing my hand up to feel his forehead, but he flinches back, whimpering and knocking into the table behind him. My hand freezes in the air, and I stare at him open-mouthed. He’s flinched before, he flinches all the time, but never this bad. “Ryan,” I say softly, lowering my hand. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, you know that right?” He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing shakily against the wall that he’s now backed into. “I’m sorry,” I try, inching closer to him.

“No,” he shakes his head, “you didn’t do anything, sorry. I just- I’m,” he shrugs, not finishing his sentence. My mom is watching the scene curiously from the living room.

I raise my hand slowly this time, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn’t flinch as I lay my hand across his forehead. He feels cold, colder than he should be. “Come on,” I say, tugging his arm until he follows me.

“Hi, Ryan,” my mom smiles warmly at Ryan as we pass her.

“Hello, Ms. Urie,” he replies quietly, looking at her over his shoulder and stumbling along behind me. When we’re in my room I shut the door and turn to him, sadly taking in his shivering form again. I take his hat off, smiling slightly at it, and toss it onto my couch. I’m surprised to see that his hair isn’t the usual straight and smooth, but wavy and disheveled. It makes him look younger, innocent.

“I know,” he laughs nervously, trying to flatten his hair with his hand, but I pull it away.

“I like it,” I say, one corner of my mouth turned up. I’m not quite sure, but I think I see some pink on his cheeks. Then I remember the task at hand, so I clear my throat and walk over to the bed, pulling the covers back.

“Take your clothes off,” I order, then I immediately freeze because oh my god, that sounded so wrong; ordering him to undress while I get my bed ready. My eyes widen, and I turn to him to see him looking very much the same. A nervous giggle escapes him. “I mean, because they’re wet, your clothes I mean. Um, okay let me rephrase. Let me get you some dry clothes and then you can take the wet ones off and change,” I explain, my entire face burning. He just nods, taking his jacket and hoodie off until he’s only wearing a way too small t-shirt. His jeans are rather tight too, now that I notice.

“Right, okay,” I mumble, tearing my gaze away from him and stumbling to my closet, searching for something comfortable. I throw him some sweatpants and a dry t-shirt, one of my smaller ones that will hopefully fit him. I’m really just as skinny as him, but I’m maybe a bit broader, while he’s lanky. But lanky in a totally ridiculously hot way.

I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just have that thought.

Instead of going to the bathroom like I’d assumed he would, he just shrugs his jeans off (as much as you can shrug off those absurdly tight things) and slips the sweatpants on. He then takes his shirt off quite gracefully, tossing it onto the couch with his other things, and I’m far too focused on how soft his skin looks to realize that I’m staring like a creep. He yanks the dry shirt on, which fits him nicely, but not really reaching all the way down to his pants so that there’s a sliver of smooth, white skin visible. I swallow.

“Brendon?” Ryan asks nervously, jerking me out of my creepy staring.

“What? Yeah, sorry. Um,” I cough, going back to pulling back the blankets. “You should probably lie down. I don’t want you to get sick.” He smiles, obediently crawling into the bed and pulling the blanket up around him. He looks rigid, like he’s afraid to be comfortable. “You need to relax,” I inform him. I get an idea, and I think it might really make him feel better, but I don’t want to freak him out.

“I can’t,” he says pathetically, looking up at me with those eyes. I bite my lip and decide fuck it.

“Turn over on your stomach,” I say, motioning him to do so with my hand. He raises his eyebrows, but turns over anyway. “I give awesome back massages,” I explain.

“Um,” he laughs a little. My insides are twisting with embarrassment, but it will make him feel better, I’m sure of it.

I start on his shoulders, pushing my fingers into them and pressing down with my palms. When I get to his upper back, I push down hard, feeling stress knots everywhere. He makes a surprised little noise, like he isn’t used to the feeling. “God, you really do need to relax,” I muse. I push my fingers into a tight, tension-filled spot, rubbing it out and he groans. “Have you ever had a massage?” I wonder. He shakes his head, his face looking too bliss-ridden to actually answer. I decide that since he’s never had one, I’m going to make it extra-amazing. “Hold on,” I mumble, crawling off my bed and going to my desk on the other side of the room. He lets out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact and I smile. “Okay, not to sound weird again, but take your shirt off.” I look up and he’s biting his lip. “It’ll feel ten times better,” I assure him. He reluctantly slips the shirt off, setting it on the pillow and waiting.

I come back with a bottle of massage oil. No, not that kind. Ryan eyes it warily. “What’s that?” he nods at it.

“Massage oil,” I mutter, not meeting his eyes. He’s silent, so I cough a little. “It’s not- It’s not for- for that,” I say, a bit mortified. “It’s just for massages.” He looks confused.

“Not for what?” his brows furrow. My mouth closes.

“Um, never mind,” I shrug, finding it weird that he didn’t know what I meant. Or maybe he just isn’t as dirty minded as me, whatever.

I put a little of the liquid in my palm, rubbing my hands together to warm it up. When I press my hands to his skin again, I’m surprised to find that it’s heated, warm against my hands. I rub my hands up his shoulders again, kneading his muscles and relieving his overwhelming amount of tension. He has his arms crossed on the pillow with his head lying on top of them. His eyes are closed.

My hands smooth down his back, all the way down to his lower back, where I stop, pressing my fingers in there and massaging deeply. Another sound escapes his mouth this time, and it almost sounds like a moan. That sound does really odd things to me. I can’t really reach the other side of his back like this, so I stop, hesitating, before saying, “I’m just gonna-” and promptly straddling his ass. My eyes widen, because I have no idea what possessed me to do that. I just keep massaging his back like nothing happened, and he doesn’t say anything either.

I work my way back up to the back of his neck, working my magic with my skilled hands. Okay, so I took a cosmetology class in ninth grade, whatever, there was nothing else available.

When I hit a particularly sensitive spot, Ryan makes this soft sound, this sound that makes me bite my lip. “You’re really good at this,” he laughs breathlessly, his hands clenching and unclenching, and I really have to stop myself from running my hands all over him like a slut.

“I took a class,” I shrug, running my hands down his sides and pretending like I’m not freaking out about getting to touch him like this. I’d always wondered if his skin was as soft as it looks, and it’s softer if that’s possible.

“This should be weird, but it isn’t,” Ryan says strangely, craning his head and looking up at me, smiling. ‘Weird’ definitely isn’t the word I’d use to describe how this feels to me, but well, I’d figured that’s kind of how he would feel what with me sitting on his ass and all. I just smile back, now rolling my knuckles along his skin, loosening his muscles. He groans again, followed by an ‘mmm’ sound, and my skin is starting to get hot and prickly. So obviously Ryan is an attractive boy and I’m touching him like this, of course this is how I’m going to react. That doesn’t mean I like him.

Just as he moans particularly enthusiastically, my door swings open and I hear a gasp along with a disbelieving laugh. My head whips around to face Jayda and Spencer, both obviously hiding their laughter. I freeze, looking down at Ryan, shirtless on my bed, and myself, sitting on his ass with my hands rubbing all over him. “Um.”

“Maybe we should knock from now on,” Spencer giggles to Jayda.

“I was just giving him a back massage,” I say defensively. “He has so much tension,” I say, nodding as if that would explain everything.

“Not anymore,” Ryan mumbles, sated and lazy. Jayda giggles again. I climb off of him, wiping my hands on my pants and stand up, clearing my throat and not meeting anyone’s eyes. Ryan sits up and stretches with another groan, slipping his shirt back on.

“Is that-” Spencer starts with a smirk. “Is that your shirt, Brendon?” he laughs, gesturing to Ryan.

“His clothes were wet,” I explain.

“Mhm,” Spencer nods, the smirk not going away. I roll my eyes and go to sit on my couch, flipping on the TV.

“How was the party?” I ask, although I don’t really care.

Jayda says, “Lame,” at the same time Spencer says, “Awesome.”

“William was being a dick,” Jayda scowls. “And I’m tired so I’m going to sleep,” she waves, heading out of my room. Spencer sits down next to me with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“So what are you doing here, Ryan?” he asks in Ryan’s general direction.

“Oh, I just… felt like hanging out,” he shrugs. Liar. There was a reason he wanted to come here.

“Cool,” Spencer replies. “Oh, dude,” he says to me. “You will never believe what Leslie Martin tried to do to me,” he grins. My eyebrows go up. Leslie’s not exactly Spencer’s type- as in, she’s a slut.

“She totally tried to give me a blowjob,” he laughs, making a face. “I was like, no thanks, I’d rather stay non-diseased.” I laugh with him, but Ryan sits on the arm of the couch, frowning at us.

“What?” I ask up at him.

“What’s a blowjob?” he asks confusedly. My mouth literally drops open and Spencer huffs out an incredulous laugh before standing up.

“Okay, dude,” he says to me. “You’re on your own on this one.” He walks out the door with a grin on his face and Ryan takes his place on the couch.

“What?” he asks, looking like someone who isn’t in on the joke. I have no idea what to say. This is beyond weird. He is a seventeen-year-old boy who doesn’t know what a blowjob is. I don’t understand.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?” I ask quietly, making sure he’s not just fucking with me. He just shakes his head, his eyes confused. God, how am I supposed to explain this? “You do know what sex is, right?” I ask bluntly. At that, his face gets red and he splutters a bit.

“Yes!” he says embarrassedly, his cheeks flaming. “Of course I know what sex is.”

“Well look, a blowjob,” I start awkwardly. “It’s a- a form of sex, it’s. It’s like. You see, you- fuck. Okay, well. God, this is- I don’t. It’s sort of like- god, it’s when you suck someone’s dick, okay?!” I shriek, tired of trying to find a non-awkward way of explaining it. His eyes get wide and his mouth drops open.

“Oh,” he says.

“How sheltered are you?” I ask dubiously, shaking my head.

“So… you’re gay, right?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“Bi,” I correct, not sure what that has to do with anything. “I like guys and girls,” I elaborate, since I really don’t know what he does and doesn’t know the meaning of. “But mostly guys,” I add quietly. He nods, taking in the information.

“So, you said you gave that William guy a handjob,” he starts nonchalantly, and I choke on the gulp of soda I was taking. “If a blowjob is… that, then I guess a handjob is with…” he trails off, gesturing to his hand. I cover my eyes with my hand, trying to hide my absolute humiliation right now.

“I thought you knew what that was? At lunch that day, you laughed at it,” I remind him.

“I was just laughing because you were so flustered, I didn’t know what it was,” he admits, some color still on his cheeks. “Have you ever given anyone a blowjob?” he asks curiously and I start choking on air.

“I- I- Ryan!” I exclaim, looking at him crazily.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“God, I. No!” I answer, scratching my neck nervously.

“Huh,” he hums. “Seems like it’d be weird.” I gape at him. What the hell is even happening right now? I definitely didn’t expect this to be our conversation topic of choice for the night. It’s kind of really embarrassing.

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” Ryan starts, sounding more serious now. “Never really had to, but ever since I’ve been in school I’ve been thinking about things like relationships and stuff. And, to put it bluntly, I think I’m gay,” he laughs a little, looking over at me. I’m shocked, to say the least. “I’ve never been attracted to anyone, because I’ve never been around anyone to be attracted to. But since I’ve been here, I haven’t been attracted to any girls,” he tells me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s confiding in me.

“Really?” I swallow. “What about… what about the guys?” I ask. I ignore the way it makes me feel to think about Ryan being attracted to anyone. He turns to look at me, smiling softly.

“Maybe one or two,” he says playfully, ruffling my hair and getting up to go lie down.

When did silent, careful Ryan turn into playful, witty Ryan?

Chapter 6

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A/N: I know I took a long time to update, but for those of you who don’t know, I broke my wrist. :/ So it’s been kinda hard to type. But I’ll try to get back to a regular updating schedule soon! Also, I’m about to start on another fic- a brothers fic. Leave comments!