Remaining Relevant .:Ten:.
Title: Remaining Relevant .:Ten:.
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/Blind!Ryan, various others mentioned
POV: Third
Summary: Sequel to Heedless in Rain. Brendon’s dead, he’s lost his love, his friends can’t seem to move on. And what happens when the psychopathic murderer who killed him shows up again?
Chapter Summary: Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]
Chapter Ten
“Your… Your what?” Brendon breathes, and he suddenly feels very lightheaded. Incredibly so. He might even faint, if he weren’t dead. As it is, he only wobbles slightly on his feet. “Ryan… Ryan, why?”
The corners of Ryan’s mouth turn down. His cheeks are pink, like he’s embarrassed, but his hands shake like he’s scared. “Brendon, I’m sorry. It’s just that--”
“Shut up, Ryan,” Ryan’s boyfriend barks, arms still crossed over his chest, glare now directed at Ryan. “You don’t owe him an explanation. You owe me one. Did you think that just because I was away you could go and jump into someone else’s bed?”
Ryan starts to shake his head back and forth rapidly, still wringing his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Brendon’s breathing is shallow, and it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t need oxygen, because it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his lungs. “Jeremy, no. It’s n-not like that. Me and Brendon are j-just friends.” Ryan turns to Brendon, and his voice is pleading. “Right, Brendon? Tell him.”
Brendon wishes he could say that they aren’t just friends, except that they are. They’d never made anything official, never been out on a date. And Brendon’s dead, all they can-- should ever be is ‘just friends’.
Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”
Jeremy cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then what was that kiss, huh?” Brendon opens his mouth to tell Jeremy that it wasn’t anything, it didn’t mean anything (because apparently it didn’t), but he doesn’t get the chance. Jeremy just shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes. “He’s mine, fucker. Just keep your fucking hands off.”
“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, suddenly much closer than he had been a few second ago. Close enough that Brendon can hear his mumbled whispering. “Jeremy. He’s… he’s the one who--”
“Ryan, come here,” Jeremy says, and it’s obviously an order.
Ryan cringes, actually cringes and. And Brendon’s heart breaks a little. If that’s possible. Could a heart that’s not beating break?
Ryan doesn’t move for a second, and then he only takes a hesitant step toward Jeremy. Brendon can’t figure out if it’s because he’s dreading being close enough to touch his boyfriend, or if he doesn’t know in which direction to go. Either way, Jeremy gets fed up and grabs Ryan’s wrist, fingers wrapped tightly enough that it’s going to bruise, and tugs the boy in close to his side protectively.
With one last glare at Brendon over his shoulder, Jeremy and Ryan depart, Ryan being tugged helplessly along.
Brendon feels like a complete idiot when, some half hour later, he figures out the end of Ryan’s sentence.
-
Frank comes to see Brendon the next day. His presence doesn’t cheer Brendon up any (he’s been moping since Ryan left, feeling sorry for himself, but mostly feeling sorry for Ryan).
“Dude,” Frank says, nudging Brendon’s foot with his own. They’re seated on one of the benches, placed randomly throughout the large cemetery. And Brendon hasn’t been listening to a word Frank’s said. “Dude,” Frank says again, this time putting for emphasis into the word and into his nudge.
“Hm?” Brendon asks, sitting up straighter and trying to look like he’s been listening the whole time. Then he bites his lip and ducks his head again. “Sorry, Frankie. I keep spacing out on you.”
Frank sighs heavily, flicks Brendon in the side of the head. “Tell me what’s wrong, asshat.”
Brendon doesn’t even have the energy to look offended. He just shrugs and makes a few half-hearted gestures. He’s not sure he should tell Frank. But… if he can’t help Ryan, someone’s got to, right? But maybe it would be better if he just waited. Ryan will come back when Jeremy leaves, and he can talk about it with him then.
Despite himself, Brendon says, “Ryan has a boyfriend.”
Frank understands immediately, wrapping his arm around Brendon’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “Aw, Bren. That sucks.”
Brendon nods against Frank’s shoulder helplessly. And he is helpless. There’s nothing he can do for Ryan if he’s stuck here. “You know what sucks even harder? His boyfriend abuses him. I mean, he’s blind, Frank. You just. You don’t abuse blind people, right?”
Frank goes suspiciously still. “How do you know?” he asks slowly, and Brendon can’t decide if he sounds upset or curious.
“Ryan told me. Or, uh. Tried to tell me.”
“Fuck,” Frank breathes.
-
So, maybe it’s not Frank’s place to pry. He barely knows Ryan, he has no right to know anything about Ryan’s private life. Not to mention, he’s deliberately disregarding Brendon’s request that he not talk to Ryan about this.
But that doesn’t stop him from going to Ryan’s house, knocking on the door, and then inviting himself inside when said door is opened.
It’s just Ryan, looking tired and a little sad, but generally unharmed. The Ross house is small and dark and kind of cluttered. Frank can hear the TV on in the other room, someone talking over the TV, probably on the phone.
“Is your boyfriend still around?” Frank asks, unable to decide if it’s sex hair Ryan’s sporting, or bedhead.
Ryan tilts his head in the direction of the TV noises, says, “No. But, uh. Let’s go to my room. My Dad’s home.” Ryan doesn’t wait for any sort of response before he starts off down a hallway, one hand flat against the wall, using it as a guide of sorts. They duck into the first room on the left, clearly Ryan’s.
Ryan finds his way effortlessly to the bed (Frank momentarily wonders how long it took him to memorize the house, and if he ever still walks into walls or something) and takes a seat. This is when Frank notices that Ryan’s not wearing sunglasses. Before he can stop himself, he’s saying, “Wow, you have pretty eyes.” And, ugh. That sounded too much like he was flirting.
Ryan’s lips curl into a teasing smirk. “Did you come here to hit on me, Frank? Because, as you already know, I’m taken.”
Frank shakes his head at himself. “Uh, no. No, I came here because.” He stops. How does he say this? “I’m here because Brendon thinks you’re being… hit. By your boyfriend. And, you know. If I’m wrong, you can totally smack me or something. That’s a huge accusation, and I wouldn’t even be here, prying into your business if Brendon hadn’t asked me to, so you should probably smack him, also … Just sayin’.”
Ryan freezes, goes rigid. “Um, Frank… What are you planning to do if I tell you that you’re right?”
Frank hesitates. He has no clue. “I have no clue. I could kick his ass next time I see him? Get Gabe to help? Gabe is a good asskicker, you know.”
“It’s. You can’t just…” Ryan sighs, runs a hand through his hair, only serving to further ruffle it up. “That won’t scare him away. Listen, Frank. He only comes around every once in a while. He lives in the next state over, so I don‘t see him often. It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s why I didn’t tell Brendon.”
“You should’ve told him, or you should at least go back and talk to him now. He’s crushed, Ryan.”
Ryan shrugs, as close as he’s going to get to admitting he was wrong. “Sure. I’ll… I’ll go back tonight, after my Dad’s gone, okay?”
Frank crosses his arms, gives Ryan his best intimidating stare (never mind that Ryan can’t see it. It’s so intense that he can probably feel it… Or so Frank hopes). “If I find out that you don’t go tonight, then I’ll be forced to…” He falters for a second. “… do bad things to you,” he finishes lamely, and Ryan chuckles.
-
An- A semi-filler! That I wrote five minutes ago after getting about an hour of sleep the past two days! Sorry for the major suckage, but you guys didn’t want to wait until Monday for another update, right?
Dedicating this chapter to one of my close irl friends, Jeremy. I borrowed his appearance and bitchiness, though he'd never actually lay a finger on anyone. (Sorry for making you abusive in my fic, bb).
Feedback makes my heart happy ♥
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/Blind!Ryan, various others mentioned
POV: Third
Summary: Sequel to Heedless in Rain. Brendon’s dead, he’s lost his love, his friends can’t seem to move on. And what happens when the psychopathic murderer who killed him shows up again?
Chapter Summary: Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]
Chapter Ten
“Your… Your what?” Brendon breathes, and he suddenly feels very lightheaded. Incredibly so. He might even faint, if he weren’t dead. As it is, he only wobbles slightly on his feet. “Ryan… Ryan, why?”
The corners of Ryan’s mouth turn down. His cheeks are pink, like he’s embarrassed, but his hands shake like he’s scared. “Brendon, I’m sorry. It’s just that--”
“Shut up, Ryan,” Ryan’s boyfriend barks, arms still crossed over his chest, glare now directed at Ryan. “You don’t owe him an explanation. You owe me one. Did you think that just because I was away you could go and jump into someone else’s bed?”
Ryan starts to shake his head back and forth rapidly, still wringing his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Brendon’s breathing is shallow, and it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t need oxygen, because it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his lungs. “Jeremy, no. It’s n-not like that. Me and Brendon are j-just friends.” Ryan turns to Brendon, and his voice is pleading. “Right, Brendon? Tell him.”
Brendon wishes he could say that they aren’t just friends, except that they are. They’d never made anything official, never been out on a date. And Brendon’s dead, all they can-- should ever be is ‘just friends’.
Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”
Jeremy cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then what was that kiss, huh?” Brendon opens his mouth to tell Jeremy that it wasn’t anything, it didn’t mean anything (because apparently it didn’t), but he doesn’t get the chance. Jeremy just shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes. “He’s mine, fucker. Just keep your fucking hands off.”
“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, suddenly much closer than he had been a few second ago. Close enough that Brendon can hear his mumbled whispering. “Jeremy. He’s… he’s the one who--”
“Ryan, come here,” Jeremy says, and it’s obviously an order.
Ryan cringes, actually cringes and. And Brendon’s heart breaks a little. If that’s possible. Could a heart that’s not beating break?
Ryan doesn’t move for a second, and then he only takes a hesitant step toward Jeremy. Brendon can’t figure out if it’s because he’s dreading being close enough to touch his boyfriend, or if he doesn’t know in which direction to go. Either way, Jeremy gets fed up and grabs Ryan’s wrist, fingers wrapped tightly enough that it’s going to bruise, and tugs the boy in close to his side protectively.
With one last glare at Brendon over his shoulder, Jeremy and Ryan depart, Ryan being tugged helplessly along.
Brendon feels like a complete idiot when, some half hour later, he figures out the end of Ryan’s sentence.
-
Frank comes to see Brendon the next day. His presence doesn’t cheer Brendon up any (he’s been moping since Ryan left, feeling sorry for himself, but mostly feeling sorry for Ryan).
“Dude,” Frank says, nudging Brendon’s foot with his own. They’re seated on one of the benches, placed randomly throughout the large cemetery. And Brendon hasn’t been listening to a word Frank’s said. “Dude,” Frank says again, this time putting for emphasis into the word and into his nudge.
“Hm?” Brendon asks, sitting up straighter and trying to look like he’s been listening the whole time. Then he bites his lip and ducks his head again. “Sorry, Frankie. I keep spacing out on you.”
Frank sighs heavily, flicks Brendon in the side of the head. “Tell me what’s wrong, asshat.”
Brendon doesn’t even have the energy to look offended. He just shrugs and makes a few half-hearted gestures. He’s not sure he should tell Frank. But… if he can’t help Ryan, someone’s got to, right? But maybe it would be better if he just waited. Ryan will come back when Jeremy leaves, and he can talk about it with him then.
Despite himself, Brendon says, “Ryan has a boyfriend.”
Frank understands immediately, wrapping his arm around Brendon’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “Aw, Bren. That sucks.”
Brendon nods against Frank’s shoulder helplessly. And he is helpless. There’s nothing he can do for Ryan if he’s stuck here. “You know what sucks even harder? His boyfriend abuses him. I mean, he’s blind, Frank. You just. You don’t abuse blind people, right?”
Frank goes suspiciously still. “How do you know?” he asks slowly, and Brendon can’t decide if he sounds upset or curious.
“Ryan told me. Or, uh. Tried to tell me.”
“Fuck,” Frank breathes.
-
So, maybe it’s not Frank’s place to pry. He barely knows Ryan, he has no right to know anything about Ryan’s private life. Not to mention, he’s deliberately disregarding Brendon’s request that he not talk to Ryan about this.
But that doesn’t stop him from going to Ryan’s house, knocking on the door, and then inviting himself inside when said door is opened.
It’s just Ryan, looking tired and a little sad, but generally unharmed. The Ross house is small and dark and kind of cluttered. Frank can hear the TV on in the other room, someone talking over the TV, probably on the phone.
“Is your boyfriend still around?” Frank asks, unable to decide if it’s sex hair Ryan’s sporting, or bedhead.
Ryan tilts his head in the direction of the TV noises, says, “No. But, uh. Let’s go to my room. My Dad’s home.” Ryan doesn’t wait for any sort of response before he starts off down a hallway, one hand flat against the wall, using it as a guide of sorts. They duck into the first room on the left, clearly Ryan’s.
Ryan finds his way effortlessly to the bed (Frank momentarily wonders how long it took him to memorize the house, and if he ever still walks into walls or something) and takes a seat. This is when Frank notices that Ryan’s not wearing sunglasses. Before he can stop himself, he’s saying, “Wow, you have pretty eyes.” And, ugh. That sounded too much like he was flirting.
Ryan’s lips curl into a teasing smirk. “Did you come here to hit on me, Frank? Because, as you already know, I’m taken.”
Frank shakes his head at himself. “Uh, no. No, I came here because.” He stops. How does he say this? “I’m here because Brendon thinks you’re being… hit. By your boyfriend. And, you know. If I’m wrong, you can totally smack me or something. That’s a huge accusation, and I wouldn’t even be here, prying into your business if Brendon hadn’t asked me to, so you should probably smack him, also … Just sayin’.”
Ryan freezes, goes rigid. “Um, Frank… What are you planning to do if I tell you that you’re right?”
Frank hesitates. He has no clue. “I have no clue. I could kick his ass next time I see him? Get Gabe to help? Gabe is a good asskicker, you know.”
“It’s. You can’t just…” Ryan sighs, runs a hand through his hair, only serving to further ruffle it up. “That won’t scare him away. Listen, Frank. He only comes around every once in a while. He lives in the next state over, so I don‘t see him often. It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s why I didn’t tell Brendon.”
“You should’ve told him, or you should at least go back and talk to him now. He’s crushed, Ryan.”
Ryan shrugs, as close as he’s going to get to admitting he was wrong. “Sure. I’ll… I’ll go back tonight, after my Dad’s gone, okay?”
Frank crosses his arms, gives Ryan his best intimidating stare (never mind that Ryan can’t see it. It’s so intense that he can probably feel it… Or so Frank hopes). “If I find out that you don’t go tonight, then I’ll be forced to…” He falters for a second. “… do bad things to you,” he finishes lamely, and Ryan chuckles.
-
An- A semi-filler! That I wrote five minutes ago after getting about an hour of sleep the past two days! Sorry for the major suckage, but you guys didn’t want to wait until Monday for another update, right?
Dedicating this chapter to one of my close irl friends, Jeremy. I borrowed his appearance and bitchiness, though he'd never actually lay a finger on anyone. (Sorry for making you abusive in my fic, bb).
Feedback makes my heart happy ♥