Goodbye Could've Been My Family Name
Title: Goodbye Could’ve Been My Family Name
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet <3
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, minor Brendon/Spencer and Brendon/William
Rating: PG-13
POV: 1st, Brendon’s
Summary: And for them, if I never let them know me then they wouldn’t have to hurt when I left. Because that’s what I’d do, I knew it. Every time, I’d leave.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, and the title and cut belong to Mary Gauthier.
Author’s Notes: This was based off the song “Goodbye” by Mary Gauthier. This is a song I’ve known since I was really little; my dad played it all the time. I saw the CD lying on the table and I thought of this song and I thought it would make a great story, so I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it, and comments are always welcome.
Leaving. It’s all I’ve ever known.
My mother, she brought me into this world and then she left my life forever.
I don’t remember why, I don’t remember how, and I don’t remember whether she even held me before she left. But I know she left, I know she let me go.
She was the first person I ever knew, she was the first person that knew me. The first person that knew me and the first person that left me.
And I know that one of the first words to reach my young ear was the word “goodbye”.
***
My father, he was different.
My father never came, so he never had a chance to leave.
In a way it’s better.
I don’t know who he is; I don’t know where he is. I just know he’s not here. He didn’t hold me, didn’t see me, and didn’t care to. I don’t miss him, and I can’t miss him. There’s nothing there for me to miss. No memories of childhood, of riding bikes or taking walks. There’s nothing.
But in a way it’s worse.
He decided to leave me before I was even born. He decided to say goodbye when I was still inside my mom. He left her,that was the thing. He left her and paid no attention to the fact that he was really leaving two of us.
He paid no attention to me, gave no thought to what this might do to my life once he was gone.
***
The nurses at the hospital, they left me.
They left me with my aunt. My Californian aunt with her big California house and her important California job.
She came and she went, her boyfriends came and went, and my private California school cousins came and went and came and went.
I had a school, I had teachers. I had friends, a few of them, but they drifted as time went on. I never took care to hang on to them, to keep in touch. So they just floated away.
***
I switched schools and I switched teachers.
And then I found Spencer. Or Spencer found me.
Spencer was in my grade, in my class, and he talked to me.
He just came up to me and he talked to me and I talked to him and we were friends. We were close; he told me things, and I listened. I was a good listener.
But I never told too much. I didn’t want to reveal my story to anyone, I was afraid of getting too close. Because I knew that just when I’d become comfortable, they’d leave. And I’d be left alone.
And I didn’t want to be alone after I’d known what it felt like to have someone.
But time went on and Spencer didn’t leave.
Spencer was my best friend, he was the closest thing I had to a brother, and maybe he was something more.
Spencer, I loved him. I loved him; maybe because he was the only person who was constant in my life, he was the only person who hadn’t told me “goodbye”.
He hadn’t left me yet, but that made me all the more terrified that he might.
We grew closer and closer and I became more and more scared. Because I’d told him; I’d told him my story, everything about me, my past and my present. I was even beginning to think he might love me back.
Everything was too strong, too unfamiliar.
And that’s when I broke.
That’s when I left.
***
I was seventeen, and I was living on the streets, I was living on the road. I wasn’t thinking, I was just moving.
And I found that so much easier.
Moving from place to place, never staying long enough to meet someone who might make me feel like that again.
I was free.
***
But then I met someone who didn’t want me to be free.
William, he wanted to keep me. He wanted to tie me down, fold up my wings and keep me.
William worked at an inn, he was gentle, he was sweet, and he believed in me too much. He thought I came to him because we were drawn together. He said we were perfect for each other, and maybe he was right. Maybe we were good, the two of us.
But he wouldn’t let me fly.
He wanted to feed me, take care of me. He was protective and he was generous; he was perfect. He was perfect and he wanted me.
He would kiss me and he would hold me and he made me feel safe.
I felt safe, but I didn’t feel happy. Not all the way.
William saw the way I acted, how restless I was, how much I longed to be out on the open road again. He saw that I wasn’t content where I was, but he believed that could change. He told me I’d get used to it, living here with him. Working and having a permanent place to stay.
He told me he’d never leave me.
So I left him.
***
Years, that’s how long I traveled.
I walked, I drove, and I slept and walked again. I moved from hotel to hotel, street to street, occasionally singing on the corner for quarters or mowing someone’s lawn for a meal.
I met people over those years. There are people I remember and people I don’t, but no one was around too long. I’d learned my lesson; never let them get too close. I kept my distance and I figured it was better for me and better for them.
Because if I never stayed with anyone I’d never have to get re-accustomed to the feeling of being alone.
And for them, if I never let them know me then they wouldn’t have to hurt when I left. Because that’s what I’d do, I knew it. Every time, I’d leave.
It was all I knew.
***
Things changed when I met Ryan.
There was no shocking revelation, no 180 turn, but there was a change. Subtle, but it was there. I’m not sure what it was, but it was there.
Ryan worked at a drive-thru espresso hut, and I first saw him when I walked up to the window and ordered a coffee, no milk. I walked up to the drive-thru espresso hut and everything in my life shifted just a little. Just a little, but more than it had with Spencer or William or the people I remember from the years in between.
He made my coffee and took my money, but he didn’t give me my change right away.
“What’s your name?” He said.
“Brendon.” My name is Brendon.
His nametag said his name was Ryan.
Ryan asked me where I was from. I told him I didn’t know.
I didn’t know where I came from, I didn’t know the family from which I came, and I could hardly remember all the places I’d been.
I told him all that, two minutes after we’d met. It startled even me.
Ryan asked me if I’d like to come in, chat, maybe hang out with him when his break started.
I said yes, and I didn’t even know why.
I sat awkwardly in the corner of the drive-thru espresso hut and listened to the customers come and leave. I listened to the sound of the coffee grinder and the smell of the beans. But mostly I listened to Ryan’s voice. Even his voice, I thought, even his voice was special.
***
Ryan was different from anyone else, because he understood.
He understood the way I was; always moving, changing, leaving. And he accepted it. He didn’t try to change the way I was, he didn’t try to keep me tied down. He left me free to do what I wanted, and maybe that’s why I stayed.
I stayed because he told me I could leave.
Ryan, he got me. Sometimes I got the feeling that he could read what I was thinking. I felt like, when he looked at me, he knew my story without me having to speak a word.
He knew it, everything I’d been through, and he didn’t treat me any different because of it. He wasn’t overly-protective or overly-friendly.
He was just Ryan.
And maybe he was exactly what I needed.
***
I think falling in love with Ryan was inevitable from the moment I walked up to that espresso hut.
Ryan was different from anyone I’d ever met, and what I felt for him was different than anything I’d ever felt.
I didn’t love him like I’d loved Spencer; as a best friend. And he wasn’t like William; so perfect that he was hard not to love.
No, I loved Ryan in a much deeper way. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were soul mates. Or maybe we were just lucky; right place at the right time.
I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but it happened. I fell in love with Ryan, but it didn’t feel that much like falling. It felt more like sinking gradually; like I was lowering myself down with intent, aware of what was happening but not afraid of it.
Because I wasn’t afraid of it, not at first.
At first I didn’t have time to be scared, I didn’t have the energy to worry.
With Ryan, everything was too full, too strong, almost too much. It didn’t leave any room for doubt. Every minute I spent with him was so full off feeling, good feeling, incredible feeling, that it pushed that nagging restless part of my mind to the side.
I didn’t live with him for months. I would spend days at the espresso hut, at nearby cafés, at the park. I would spend the days with Ryan, talking and laughing and then eventually kissing and touching.
But at the end of the day I would go my own way. At night I was free to wander the streets, sleep where I could and eat where I found food. At night it was like I was on the road again, but without the edge of not knowing where I’d end up in the morning. And I was okay with that.
The security of knowing I’d be with Ryan was better than the insecurity of being somewhere unfamiliar.
That’s how I lived for months. I lived happy and I lived in love and I didn’t want anything more until Ryan brought up the idea of living together.
***
“Move in with me, Brendon?” Ryan asked me while I sat behind the counter at the espresso hut. There was a break in the line of customers and he turned toward me and took my hands. He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes that made me think, yes.
Right then there was nothing that excited me more than the prospect of moving in with Ryan.
It was that look in his eyes. It made me feel like he could never want anything other than me, and I convinced myself that I would never want anything other than him.
And so I moved in.
I didn’t have anything to pack, no suitcases to haul into his apartment. I just walked in, and that was it.
It was set, it was done.
And I didn’t know what that meant.
***
At first, I was happy. At first I felt comfortable, I felt safe, and I felt love.
I was delighted that I could spend every minute with Ryan; that I could have him all day as my friend, my companion, and then all night in a different way.
At first I loved the feeling of waking up in the morning, knowing exactly where I was and having the security of Ryan’s warm arms wrapped around my body.
At first I didn’t miss my old life.
But eventually that dormant gypsy in my soul got restless, and I longed to be back on the road. I began to desperately crave the thrill of traveling, the openness of the sky and the ground always moving beneath my feet.
Ryan saw my displeasure. But he’d changed, too. He was no longer willing to let me go, he’d grown attached and he’d lost some of the acceptance he’d had for my former lifestyle. He’d gotten used to having me around and I think he was as scared as I was.
We were both scared I would leave.
And that fear built tension between us. Tension that stretched and coiled and threatened to snap at any moment. That feeling made us both begin to forget the reason we were here in the first place. We’d lost sight of the pure love that we used to have.
Love that was still there, but was now buried and smothered beneath anxiety and discomfort.
And one day that restless, edgy, coiled spring in me just snapped.
It snapped and I just fell backwards against the wall and started to shake.
And Ryan, Ryan was there. He was there right away, his arms around me gently, carefully, and there was genuine worry in his eyes.
I sobbed, desperate sobs that ripped out of me from somewhere, somewhere deep inside me, and Ryan stroked my hair and my back and my tears dried on his shirt.
When the shaking stopped I stood up. I stood up and walked towards the door and Ryan let me. He withdrew his arms from around me and watched me as I walked away. And just as I was opening the door he spoke.
“Stay,” he said.
But I knew it was too late. I shook my head at him and said, “I don’t know how.”
Tears rolled down his face as I stepped out the door and shut it quietly behind me.
“Goodbye,” I whispered to the door.
***
I walked, away from Ryan, away from that town and I lost myself to thought.
When it’s time, when it’s time for me to leave forever, I thought. When it’s time for me to leave the world that made me like this, I don’t want to take my time. I don’t want to stick around longer than I have to.
I just want to say “goodbye” and go.