Deception… and all things untold.
|| PG 13 || Adult Concepts || Ryan/Brendon || 1, 390 words ||
Ryan shouldn’t be on this side of town. Dark cats and faceless people haunt the alleyways, polluting the once carefree atmosphere. The very air has a distinct foreboding demeanor about it, warning you to leave or terrible things will happen.
Ryan tightened his grip on the leather steering wheel, he shouldn’t be doing this; it was appalling, it was a crime. Nevertheless Ryan turned down a narrow street, distinguishing a dark figure leaning against a streetlight. Ryan swallowed some bile that was building up in his throat, possibly seeking to suffocate him.
Ryan halted his car next to the nameless stranger who stopped leaning on the pole immediately. Ryan handed the stranger a crumpled bill. The stranger climbed into the backseat, accompanying a grotesque assortment of shapes stacked atop one another. Ryan filled his lungs with oxygen before driving ahead, keen to leave this befouled part of town.
Ryan looked in the rear vision mirror; the boy was looking out the frosted window of Ryan’s car. Shivers shot up Ryan’s spine as a noticed an air of familiarity accosting the boy; the boy’s skin was pale and his eyes empty, appearing as nothing more than a mannequin, a wonderfully faultless mannequin.
Ryan stopped abruptly, too soon for his liking. He was anxious, the anxiety clawed at him leaving a cornucopia of sweat.
Ryan opened the door of his car and climbed out shakily, feeling as if he’d lost control over parts of his body. The boy climbed out of Ryan’s stationary car, his flawless beauty immediately annihilating Ryan’s apprehension. The boy had hair the color of night, his eyes the color of burnt sienna and he possessed a sheer radiance that seemed to seep from his pale skin.
Ryan took the keys that the shriveled old woman was offering and climbed the stairs, assuming the boy would follow in his wake, he did. The hall was void of human activity. The lights were spitting sparks at them from the ceiling.
Ryan stopped at room 27 and unlocked the door before pushing it ajar. He entered first, closely followed by the boy. Ryan locked the door behind them, crossed the room and sat on the double bed, watching warily as the boy moved closer to him. Ryan looked up into the boy’s sepia coloured eyes, lovingly and tenderly. The boy was simply intangible and Ryan wanted to taste the vivid disgrace standing before him.
“Strip,” demanded Ryan. The boy dared not look at himself as he surrendered his clothing. He was a shattered image, but one that this thin man happened to have paid generously for and he deemed it best to oblige to his orders; it was, after all, the least he could do.
Ryan frowned as the boy’s perfection cracked once the boy’s garments had been removed. He physically cringed at the maltreated boy;
Purple and black bruises that were angry in color adorned his otherwise flawless skin.
Ryan looked into the boy’s eyes that were staring blankly back at him. Broken skin, nor a broken bone, would suffice; of course feelings and emotions had to be drowned from him too.
“Can I touch you?” asked Ryan in a hushed voice. The boy nodded, granting Ryan permission. Ryan stood slowly and walked over to the boy, savoring each passing moment. He ran his hand down the boy’s body, sparks shooting up his spine. He passed the boy’s jutting collarbone, traced his finger along his torso - the boy’s protruding ribs causing Ryan’s fingers to cascade up and down.
Ryan rested his hands on the boy’s hips briefly, pressing his thumbs against the obtruding bones before sitting back down on the bed. The boy remained standing, glaring at the stained carpet. Ryan sat back, admiring how innocent the boy looked; it felt so wrong to touch the kid in such a dire way. Ryan knew that this boy was Brendon.
“Hey,” said Ryan softly. Brendon looked up, his face a blank canvas, his eyes a rainbow of emotions.
“Would you like me to get you something to eat?”
Brendon was confused by the gesture but agreed courteously, seeing that the man should complete his assigned two hours, and if there was a meal in it for him, then why not?
Brendon and Ryan sat outside a nice café; Ryan sipping a lukewarm coffee whilst Brendon was content with water. It was a cold night, wintry even. Soft white flakes of snow fell in a continuous fashion and each time one of the boys’ talked, white fog escaped their mouths.
The neon sign behind them shone harshly, bathing them in a bright orange light. The sign radiated no warmth, however, and Brendon’s lack of warm clothes was sending his heart into a frenzy as it attempted to resurrect his warmth.
The waitress brought out their order, Brendon accepted his sandwich as Ryan handed her a few dollars. Brendon nibbled at the side a little while he studied Ryan. “Aren’t you going to have anything?” asked Brendon guiltily.
Ryan smiled. “No, I’m fine; you should have something to eat. You need it.” Brendon sighed and took a small bite, not allowing any signs of pleasure show on his face. He took a few more bites before abandoning the food. Ryan studied his actions.
“Surely you’re not finished?”
“Um, yeah. Do you know what the time is?” Ryan inspected his watch.
“Seven pm, you’re still mine for another hour,” Ryan meant the last statement as a joke, but it didn’t turn out that way. Brendon concealed his humility.
“Oh, okay.”
Ryan sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling an ominous need to have someone to blame for Brendon’s despair. He wondered what might please Brendon; the meal certainly hadn’t and Ryan was pretty sure Brendon would think Ryan was hitting on him if he asked Brendon to stay with him.
“I never told you my name.” Ryan spoke quickly. Brendon looked up at him inquisitively, but played along.
“Okay, what’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
“Ryan? I knew a Ryan once, a long time ago,” Brendon said, his vacant expression unwavering. Ryan leaped at the chance to have something more to talk about.
“Yes, I know. You’re Brendon?”
The color drained from Brendon’s face, leaving it merely a less subtle bone white. “Um, yes, how did you know?”
“You’re Brendon Urie,”
“Yeah. How do you know? You’re scaring me, man.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” said Ryan, clasping Brendon’s hand, “and now I’ve found you.” The eccentricity of the situation didn’t cease and Ryan’s words were imprinting deep lines of confusion across his forehead. Brendon pulled his hand away swiftly.
“I don’t know you.”
“What would you say if I told you that I was the Ryan you once knew?”
“I would probably say you’re insane.”
“Why would you say that, Prithee?”
The nickname sent shivers of recognition down Brendon’s spine. But he continued to fight. “Because, Ryan left me. He’s gone. And he’s not coming back.”
Ryan smiled, despite Brendon’s sombre words. “They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them -“
Brendon’s eyes widened. “- But then an entire life to forget them…”
“Why have you forgotten me, Brendon?”
Truth be told, Brendon had locked Ryan up in the deepest, darkest reaches of his mind and thrown away the key. He still thought of him occasionally, but the boy had gradually surrendered the memories of what Ryan looked like to a deep void.
“Circumstances change. People forget, and they cease to read silly little poems.”
“You no longer wish to wake up in winter and dance in the snow?” A pink tinge appeared on Brendon’s face.
“That was four years ago, Ryan. People change. Things change .” Ryan had never known Brendon to be so venomous.
“Only in the short term, in the long run, things remain the same.”
“Oh, really? Show me nothing has changed.”
With perfect timing Ryan leaned forward, capturing Brendon’s lips in his own. In the frost-thick weather, they kissed. They kissed and it was perfect. They kissed and it meant everything. They kissed and it meant nothing.
Ryan sat back down in his seat and looked at Brendon. “I still love you. After all this time, I still love you.”
“Really? I don’t feel anything.”