woke up new (after) part ten
After hanging out at Zeke’s with the gang through three movies and way too many brownies, Ryan drives home in Pink Grapefruit with Chad in the passenger seat and Kelsi in the back. They all sing along with the radio deliberately badly and as loud as they can while Kelsi’s in the car. As soon as they drop her off, both kissing her on the cheek and waving as she walks to her door, Chad and Ryan get quiet, serious.
Ryan drives them home in silence. When he parks, neither of them makes a move to get out of the car. They sit, Ryan staring forward through the windscreen. Chad turns slightly to look at him and waits.
“I’m not going to Juilliard.”
Chad’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to Juilliard,” Ryan calmly repeats, as if Chad just asked for the time, like this is some everyday normality and not the bombshell to end all bombshells, an announcement worthy of a daytime soap opera, the sort of phrase that should be accompanied by dramatic music and moody lighting.
“Ryan, be serious,” Chad starts, but Ryan cuts him off with an irritated huff.
“You sound like my dad. Be practical Ryan.” He rolls his eyes, pulls his hood up. He’s wearing Chad’s red hoodie today, the one with the soft grey lining that feels warm and safe. He borrowed it forever ago. Chad wouldn’t mind if he kept it. “I am serious.”
Chad can’t help seeing him as a petulant child in this moment, the way he’s slouching in the driving seat and pouting with his arms folded. “So what are you going to do instead?”
“What?” Ryan seems surprised that his sulking is being indulged.
“There’s a plan, right?”
“Oh. Um. No, not exactly. Sharpay always... Sharpay made decisions.” His shoulders hunch.
“But you decided to go to Juilliard,” Chad prompts.
“And now I’m deciding not to.” He sighs, slowly, letting his eyes close and leaning back against the headrest.
“And you don't know what else to do, huh?” He smiles, both fond and sad.
Ryan shrugs one shoulder. Chad can see how tense he is. “Not yet. I just know I don't want to do this without her. I’m not ready.”
“Dude, you were always going to be at Juilliard without Sharpay,” Chad says, beginning to feel a little uncertain. He’s never sure when they’re allowed to use her name or not, or whether he’s never allowed to say it.
“No, it was different before. She was still... We were going to make it, you and me, despite the distance. She was going to be there, with me, just as much as you were. Even though she was jealous, she was still... It’s not the same.”
Chad reaches out to hold his hand. He squeezes, pretends not to notice that Ryan’s shaking. “Underneath all that jealousy, she was so proud of you, Ryan.”
“She was? I mean, she was, of course she was. I know that.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to go. I don't think I’m going to go.”
“Ryan...” Chad tries. “Have you really thought about this? I don't think... I’m not sure you want to reject this opportunity. You’re good, Ry, you’re really good, talented. You deserve this. You’ve worked hard for this.”
“I know, but everything’s different now. Sharpay...”
“If you think you’re doing this for her, I really don't think she’d agree. I think you should go. You know you should go. We both know that. I think you’re just scared, and that’s okay, but...honestly, deciding to drop out is kind of...ridiculous.”
Ryan scowls. “You think I’m ridiculous? Thanks, Chad, what a supportive boyfriend you are.”
“Don't be like that. I’ve been very supportive. I’m being supportive. I’m thinking about you, and your future, and how you’d be fucking wasting this opportunity.”
“You know, you’re actually attempting to be more controlling than my sister right now. I didn’t think that could be done, but clearly I was wrong. Sharpay used to let me win arguments sometimes.”
"Do you have to do that?" Chad asks.
"Do what?"
"Every time I say something you disagree with, you start talking about Sharpay."
"I do not!" Ryan protests, eyes wide.
"You just did."
"When?"
"You said Sharpay used to let you win fights sometimes."
"Yeah, so?" He frowns, narrows his eyes.
"So you get that look in your eye and I can't keep arguing with you because it makes me feel like I'm drowning kittens."
"What look?"
"That look. The sad one. You look...vulnerable. Fragile. It reminds me too much of...before. I don't want to hurt you. It makes it difficult to have a mature, rational argument if you start using Sharpay to help you, because I back off every time and you win by default."
"So, what, you want me to stop talking about Sharpay? Are you trying to censor me?"
"No, no! You know I'm not. Just when we're fighting, maybe?" Chad holds up his hands like he's surrendering. Suddenly, Ryan seems so much like his sister, and it's terrifying.
"I'm not fragile. You're not going to break me! I'm fine!" They're both aware that these are perhaps not the best words to be using right now; Ryan isn't giving an ideal impression of being fine, at the moment, what with the whole tantrum thing he's got going on.
"I know."
"I'm manipulative."
Chad smiles. "I know that too. I love you anyway."
Ryan sighs, long suffering. "Okay. Fine. No Sharpay talk when we're fighting."
“Thank you.” Chad leans over to kiss him. “Shall we go inside now? Maybe watch some Gilmore Girls?”
They try not to mention Juilliard over the next few days, because they so clearly disagree and Chad firmly believes that Ryan just needs some time to come to his senses and change his mind again. So, they don't talk about it, or even think about it too much. Instead, Kelsi comes over and they order a pizza, then proceed to get quite drunk.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Kelsi is lying on her side on Ryan’s bed while she says this. Sitting up feels like too much effort but lying on her back makes the room spin. The bedding is new and she likes the fresh way it smells.
Ryan has reached “Kuwait-y” in his alphabetical list of Reasons He Doesn’t Miss Sharpay. Other reasons include her bossiness and her demands. F was just a mumbled “Fuck her”, H was “Her voice. She was so...so shrill. Like a, like a fire alarm”, followed by “I put up with so much. She made me put up with so much.”
“And you’ve definitely watched enough Gilmore Girls. At least for today.”
Ryan makes a vague noise that could be in protest or could be agreement. Either way, he shuffles out of the room to the bathroom to take a shower when Chad switches the TV and DVD player off.
“How many episodes of this are there?” Chad asks Kelsi.
She shrugs one shoulder (or she thinks she does anyway. It’s difficult to tell. She feels terribly uncoordinated). “A whole bunch.”
“How many series are there?”
“Um...maybe seven? I think we’re on the last one.”
Chad nods slowly, carefully; his balance feels precarious. “Oh. Right. Okay.”
“Come sit down. You’re making me dizzy.” Kelsi pats the empty space on the bed next to her in lazy invitation.
Chad flops behind her and stretches an arm across her waist. Every time he breathes, his arm moves enough to tickle the most sensitive spot on Kelsi’s side and she flinches or squeaks. Apparently, it doesn’t bother her enough to move away or ask him to get off, or maybe the idea doesn’t even occur to her and she just figures this tickling is something she’ll have to put up with.
“I like that you’re ticklish. No, really, I mean... it’s adorable. You’re adorable. I like you.” Chad mostly isn’t slurring.
Kelsi pouts. “I don’t want to be adorable. Or not just adorable anyway. All I am is little and shy and cute and fricking adorable.”
“Oh, no, no, you’re definitely not! Not just that. You’re so much more than that. Although you do kinda undermine my point by using words like fricking.”
“I’d roll my eyes but you can’t see it and it’d just make me feel sick, so let’s both pretend I did it anyway. It would express my sentiments nicely.”
Chad frowns, puzzled, the alcohol making him slow and this conversation a little more difficult to follow. “I don’t... Why are you rolling your eyes at me?”
“It’s nonsense. You’re humouring me. I’m only adorable and we both know it.”
“No, no, no, definitely no. You’re so much more!”
“Like what?” Kelsi suddenly sounds so sad, like this means so much more to her for reasons Chad cannot even begin to understand. He just knows that this matters, it means something and it’s serious and he can’t fuck it up.
Fucking hell, when did teenage life become so complicated? More specifically, when did his life become this complicated? He feels like he’s living in an extended episode of The Jerry McGuire Show with all the ridiculous titles and the seemingly endless drama.
“Dude, you’re like crazy talented. You’re amazing. You’re a composer, a real composer! So much of the past couple of years couldn’t have happened without you. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? How incredible you are? Troy still calls you the playmaker, you know, and he’s absolutely right. You are. You’re our playmaker.”
Kelsi rolls over slowly to cuddle him. She buries her face in his chest and Chad thinks she’s maybe crying a little bit, but he won’t say anything about it. He’ll pretend not to notice. He seems to be doing that a lot lately, being casual while people cry, like as long as he doesn’t draw attention to it, it’ll go away. Chad rubs her back gently and waits. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for.
“Thank you,” Kelsi mumbles, sleepily. “Sorry for... I think I should sleep now. You don't have to stay...here, with me, like this.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” Chad starts. “But I’d like to. If you don't mind. Does it bother you?”
She tilts her head up to kiss his cheek. “I like you too.”
Kelsi is asleep, breathing softly and curled up warm against Chad, by the time Ryan wanders back into his bedroom. His hair’s still damp from his shower and he’s wearing pyjamas; he looks younger somehow, and vulnerable, still drunk enough to be entirely too honest, to be brave and stupid. He climbs carefully onto the unoccupied side of the bed, behind Chad. He lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, apparently watching Kelsi sleep.
“She’s so pretty,” Ryan says, eventually, whispering in the quiet of the room, reluctant to disturb Kelsi. “I could never hate her. It wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t...even if it was. I don't blame her. I don't hate her. I love her. I wish she wasn’t so sad, but I’m glad she’s here. Is that selfish?”
Chad mouths No, very aware of how close Kelsi is to him, and knowing that she’ll feel it if he talks.
“She was so drunk. We were all so drunk, but she... Why? That’s what I can’t understand. I don’t... why would she do it? Try to drive when she was so...” Ryan shakes his head, rubs wearily at his eyes. “She must’ve been so desperate to leave, if she... She must’ve really needed to get away. I don’t...I can’t understand what would have made her drive off like that, except... Fuck. Fuck, Chad, I just... The witnesses all said she had time to stop. She was drunk, but not that drunk. What if...?”
Chad feels sick and it’s not from the alcohol. He makes a frantic gesture for Ryan to move, then when he’s out of the way, Chad gently disentangles himself from Kelsi. It’s a slow process; she doesn’t wake and he’s glad. He wouldn't know what to say to her right now. He isn’t sure he has any words. He grabs Ryan’s hand tightly and leads the way out of the room, to somewhere they can talk freely without fear of interrupting the precious sleep that so often eludes them all lately.
They end up in the garden, walking until they reach the fountain, where they stand holding hands, barefoot in the grass. It’s only then that Chad feels recovered enough from his shock to speak.
“Are you...what were you suggesting, Ryan?”
Ryan shrugs one shoulder. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking lately, wondering about. She could be so fucking melodramatic, we all know that, so... Maybe she didn’t mean to...to die, but...”
“You think Sharpay deliberately crashed? You think she did it on purpose, as in not accidentally?”
“Yes. No. I don't know, maybe. It’s just, like I said, it’s what I’m thinking right now. I don't want to. I don't think I want to know. I just... Fuck. If she meant it, if she meant to do it...” The first sob sounds like choking, like Ryan’s trying to force himself to swallow something unpleasant. Ryan takes a couple of quick breaths and shakes his head, regaining a tenuous grip on his emotions. “I can’t think of anything. What would make her so desperate to leave? She must have known she shouldn’t drive like that, couldn’t drive like that. And where was she even going? Why couldn’t she just talk to me? Where the fuck was I when my sister decided to die?”
Chad doesn’t know what to say, how to react to this. He can’t deal with this confession, this revelation. It’s late and he’s tired and he’s drunk and he can’t think right now. He realises he’s shivering at the same moment he notices Ryan’s teeth are chattering; relieved, he’ll use the cold as a rescue, to buy himself some time. He knows it’s not fair to ignore this, and he’s not, he just...can’t manage this conversation right now.
“It’s cold,” is what he says. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold.”
Ryan takes it as rejection, if the hurt expression is anything to go by.
“No, hey.” Chad squeezes his hands, shifts closer. He can see his breath in puffs when he exhales. “Look,” Chad says, breathing out smoke in demonstration. “All I’m saying is that it’s cold, and it is. We’ll go back inside. We can talk inside.”
“But you don't want to,” and they both pretend not to hear the whine in Ryan’s voice.
“I think there’d be something quite wrong with me if I actively wanted to talk about the possibility that your twin sister committed suicide.”
Ryan leans into Chad, rests his forehead against his shoulder. “She was happy, but...but I don't remember if she was happy that night. She can’t have been, even if she... She left, she drove her fucking car because she was so desperate to get away.”
“She was drunk,” Chad says, like that solves anything.
“Bad drunk?”
Chad tries to remember. It feels like for so long they’ve both been trying to forget. “Maybe. I don't...no, I don't think so. Just...drunk. As drunk as the rest of us. We bickered. She was funny and mean, but I wasn’t terrified of her like sometimes. She was...maybe quieter? I don't remember thinking she was sad.”
Ryan sighs. “Maybe you just didn’t notice. Maybe I didn’t notice. I can’t believe I... Something was wrong, and she didn’t tell me and I didn’t notice and she drove away and died. And maybe it wasn’t deliberate - probably it wasn’t deliberate - but it still shouldn’t have happened. I still should have done something to stop it. What was I doing instead?”
He’s starting to sound less angry, less like he’s freaking the fuck out, but more like he’s bitter and tired and blaming himself. Chad can’t tell if that’s a good sign.
“I gave you a blowjob, didn’t I?”
Chad frowns. “Yeah, but we saw her after that.”
“We did?”
“Yep. At the bottom of the stairs. She slapped me.”
Ryan nods, slowly, remembering. “The last thing I heard her say was Oh, grow up, Danforth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Ryan wipes his eyes. “Let’s go back inside. We should sleep.”
“Are you okay?” Chad asks, as they walk back, holding hands.
“Hm, mostly I’m drunk.”
In spite of the moment, of all they’ve just said, Chad laughs. He’s relieved when Ryan laughs too.
Ryan drives them home in silence. When he parks, neither of them makes a move to get out of the car. They sit, Ryan staring forward through the windscreen. Chad turns slightly to look at him and waits.
“I’m not going to Juilliard.”
Chad’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to Juilliard,” Ryan calmly repeats, as if Chad just asked for the time, like this is some everyday normality and not the bombshell to end all bombshells, an announcement worthy of a daytime soap opera, the sort of phrase that should be accompanied by dramatic music and moody lighting.
“Ryan, be serious,” Chad starts, but Ryan cuts him off with an irritated huff.
“You sound like my dad. Be practical Ryan.” He rolls his eyes, pulls his hood up. He’s wearing Chad’s red hoodie today, the one with the soft grey lining that feels warm and safe. He borrowed it forever ago. Chad wouldn’t mind if he kept it. “I am serious.”
Chad can’t help seeing him as a petulant child in this moment, the way he’s slouching in the driving seat and pouting with his arms folded. “So what are you going to do instead?”
“What?” Ryan seems surprised that his sulking is being indulged.
“There’s a plan, right?”
“Oh. Um. No, not exactly. Sharpay always... Sharpay made decisions.” His shoulders hunch.
“But you decided to go to Juilliard,” Chad prompts.
“And now I’m deciding not to.” He sighs, slowly, letting his eyes close and leaning back against the headrest.
“And you don't know what else to do, huh?” He smiles, both fond and sad.
Ryan shrugs one shoulder. Chad can see how tense he is. “Not yet. I just know I don't want to do this without her. I’m not ready.”
“Dude, you were always going to be at Juilliard without Sharpay,” Chad says, beginning to feel a little uncertain. He’s never sure when they’re allowed to use her name or not, or whether he’s never allowed to say it.
“No, it was different before. She was still... We were going to make it, you and me, despite the distance. She was going to be there, with me, just as much as you were. Even though she was jealous, she was still... It’s not the same.”
Chad reaches out to hold his hand. He squeezes, pretends not to notice that Ryan’s shaking. “Underneath all that jealousy, she was so proud of you, Ryan.”
“She was? I mean, she was, of course she was. I know that.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to go. I don't think I’m going to go.”
“Ryan...” Chad tries. “Have you really thought about this? I don't think... I’m not sure you want to reject this opportunity. You’re good, Ry, you’re really good, talented. You deserve this. You’ve worked hard for this.”
“I know, but everything’s different now. Sharpay...”
“If you think you’re doing this for her, I really don't think she’d agree. I think you should go. You know you should go. We both know that. I think you’re just scared, and that’s okay, but...honestly, deciding to drop out is kind of...ridiculous.”
Ryan scowls. “You think I’m ridiculous? Thanks, Chad, what a supportive boyfriend you are.”
“Don't be like that. I’ve been very supportive. I’m being supportive. I’m thinking about you, and your future, and how you’d be fucking wasting this opportunity.”
“You know, you’re actually attempting to be more controlling than my sister right now. I didn’t think that could be done, but clearly I was wrong. Sharpay used to let me win arguments sometimes.”
"Do you have to do that?" Chad asks.
"Do what?"
"Every time I say something you disagree with, you start talking about Sharpay."
"I do not!" Ryan protests, eyes wide.
"You just did."
"When?"
"You said Sharpay used to let you win fights sometimes."
"Yeah, so?" He frowns, narrows his eyes.
"So you get that look in your eye and I can't keep arguing with you because it makes me feel like I'm drowning kittens."
"What look?"
"That look. The sad one. You look...vulnerable. Fragile. It reminds me too much of...before. I don't want to hurt you. It makes it difficult to have a mature, rational argument if you start using Sharpay to help you, because I back off every time and you win by default."
"So, what, you want me to stop talking about Sharpay? Are you trying to censor me?"
"No, no! You know I'm not. Just when we're fighting, maybe?" Chad holds up his hands like he's surrendering. Suddenly, Ryan seems so much like his sister, and it's terrifying.
"I'm not fragile. You're not going to break me! I'm fine!" They're both aware that these are perhaps not the best words to be using right now; Ryan isn't giving an ideal impression of being fine, at the moment, what with the whole tantrum thing he's got going on.
"I know."
"I'm manipulative."
Chad smiles. "I know that too. I love you anyway."
Ryan sighs, long suffering. "Okay. Fine. No Sharpay talk when we're fighting."
“Thank you.” Chad leans over to kiss him. “Shall we go inside now? Maybe watch some Gilmore Girls?”
They try not to mention Juilliard over the next few days, because they so clearly disagree and Chad firmly believes that Ryan just needs some time to come to his senses and change his mind again. So, they don't talk about it, or even think about it too much. Instead, Kelsi comes over and they order a pizza, then proceed to get quite drunk.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Kelsi is lying on her side on Ryan’s bed while she says this. Sitting up feels like too much effort but lying on her back makes the room spin. The bedding is new and she likes the fresh way it smells.
Ryan has reached “Kuwait-y” in his alphabetical list of Reasons He Doesn’t Miss Sharpay. Other reasons include her bossiness and her demands. F was just a mumbled “Fuck her”, H was “Her voice. She was so...so shrill. Like a, like a fire alarm”, followed by “I put up with so much. She made me put up with so much.”
“And you’ve definitely watched enough Gilmore Girls. At least for today.”
Ryan makes a vague noise that could be in protest or could be agreement. Either way, he shuffles out of the room to the bathroom to take a shower when Chad switches the TV and DVD player off.
“How many episodes of this are there?” Chad asks Kelsi.
She shrugs one shoulder (or she thinks she does anyway. It’s difficult to tell. She feels terribly uncoordinated). “A whole bunch.”
“How many series are there?”
“Um...maybe seven? I think we’re on the last one.”
Chad nods slowly, carefully; his balance feels precarious. “Oh. Right. Okay.”
“Come sit down. You’re making me dizzy.” Kelsi pats the empty space on the bed next to her in lazy invitation.
Chad flops behind her and stretches an arm across her waist. Every time he breathes, his arm moves enough to tickle the most sensitive spot on Kelsi’s side and she flinches or squeaks. Apparently, it doesn’t bother her enough to move away or ask him to get off, or maybe the idea doesn’t even occur to her and she just figures this tickling is something she’ll have to put up with.
“I like that you’re ticklish. No, really, I mean... it’s adorable. You’re adorable. I like you.” Chad mostly isn’t slurring.
Kelsi pouts. “I don’t want to be adorable. Or not just adorable anyway. All I am is little and shy and cute and fricking adorable.”
“Oh, no, no, you’re definitely not! Not just that. You’re so much more than that. Although you do kinda undermine my point by using words like fricking.”
“I’d roll my eyes but you can’t see it and it’d just make me feel sick, so let’s both pretend I did it anyway. It would express my sentiments nicely.”
Chad frowns, puzzled, the alcohol making him slow and this conversation a little more difficult to follow. “I don’t... Why are you rolling your eyes at me?”
“It’s nonsense. You’re humouring me. I’m only adorable and we both know it.”
“No, no, no, definitely no. You’re so much more!”
“Like what?” Kelsi suddenly sounds so sad, like this means so much more to her for reasons Chad cannot even begin to understand. He just knows that this matters, it means something and it’s serious and he can’t fuck it up.
Fucking hell, when did teenage life become so complicated? More specifically, when did his life become this complicated? He feels like he’s living in an extended episode of The Jerry McGuire Show with all the ridiculous titles and the seemingly endless drama.
“Dude, you’re like crazy talented. You’re amazing. You’re a composer, a real composer! So much of the past couple of years couldn’t have happened without you. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? How incredible you are? Troy still calls you the playmaker, you know, and he’s absolutely right. You are. You’re our playmaker.”
Kelsi rolls over slowly to cuddle him. She buries her face in his chest and Chad thinks she’s maybe crying a little bit, but he won’t say anything about it. He’ll pretend not to notice. He seems to be doing that a lot lately, being casual while people cry, like as long as he doesn’t draw attention to it, it’ll go away. Chad rubs her back gently and waits. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for.
“Thank you,” Kelsi mumbles, sleepily. “Sorry for... I think I should sleep now. You don't have to stay...here, with me, like this.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” Chad starts. “But I’d like to. If you don't mind. Does it bother you?”
She tilts her head up to kiss his cheek. “I like you too.”
Kelsi is asleep, breathing softly and curled up warm against Chad, by the time Ryan wanders back into his bedroom. His hair’s still damp from his shower and he’s wearing pyjamas; he looks younger somehow, and vulnerable, still drunk enough to be entirely too honest, to be brave and stupid. He climbs carefully onto the unoccupied side of the bed, behind Chad. He lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, apparently watching Kelsi sleep.
“She’s so pretty,” Ryan says, eventually, whispering in the quiet of the room, reluctant to disturb Kelsi. “I could never hate her. It wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t...even if it was. I don't blame her. I don't hate her. I love her. I wish she wasn’t so sad, but I’m glad she’s here. Is that selfish?”
Chad mouths No, very aware of how close Kelsi is to him, and knowing that she’ll feel it if he talks.
“She was so drunk. We were all so drunk, but she... Why? That’s what I can’t understand. I don’t... why would she do it? Try to drive when she was so...” Ryan shakes his head, rubs wearily at his eyes. “She must’ve been so desperate to leave, if she... She must’ve really needed to get away. I don’t...I can’t understand what would have made her drive off like that, except... Fuck. Fuck, Chad, I just... The witnesses all said she had time to stop. She was drunk, but not that drunk. What if...?”
Chad feels sick and it’s not from the alcohol. He makes a frantic gesture for Ryan to move, then when he’s out of the way, Chad gently disentangles himself from Kelsi. It’s a slow process; she doesn’t wake and he’s glad. He wouldn't know what to say to her right now. He isn’t sure he has any words. He grabs Ryan’s hand tightly and leads the way out of the room, to somewhere they can talk freely without fear of interrupting the precious sleep that so often eludes them all lately.
They end up in the garden, walking until they reach the fountain, where they stand holding hands, barefoot in the grass. It’s only then that Chad feels recovered enough from his shock to speak.
“Are you...what were you suggesting, Ryan?”
Ryan shrugs one shoulder. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking lately, wondering about. She could be so fucking melodramatic, we all know that, so... Maybe she didn’t mean to...to die, but...”
“You think Sharpay deliberately crashed? You think she did it on purpose, as in not accidentally?”
“Yes. No. I don't know, maybe. It’s just, like I said, it’s what I’m thinking right now. I don't want to. I don't think I want to know. I just... Fuck. If she meant it, if she meant to do it...” The first sob sounds like choking, like Ryan’s trying to force himself to swallow something unpleasant. Ryan takes a couple of quick breaths and shakes his head, regaining a tenuous grip on his emotions. “I can’t think of anything. What would make her so desperate to leave? She must have known she shouldn’t drive like that, couldn’t drive like that. And where was she even going? Why couldn’t she just talk to me? Where the fuck was I when my sister decided to die?”
Chad doesn’t know what to say, how to react to this. He can’t deal with this confession, this revelation. It’s late and he’s tired and he’s drunk and he can’t think right now. He realises he’s shivering at the same moment he notices Ryan’s teeth are chattering; relieved, he’ll use the cold as a rescue, to buy himself some time. He knows it’s not fair to ignore this, and he’s not, he just...can’t manage this conversation right now.
“It’s cold,” is what he says. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold.”
Ryan takes it as rejection, if the hurt expression is anything to go by.
“No, hey.” Chad squeezes his hands, shifts closer. He can see his breath in puffs when he exhales. “Look,” Chad says, breathing out smoke in demonstration. “All I’m saying is that it’s cold, and it is. We’ll go back inside. We can talk inside.”
“But you don't want to,” and they both pretend not to hear the whine in Ryan’s voice.
“I think there’d be something quite wrong with me if I actively wanted to talk about the possibility that your twin sister committed suicide.”
Ryan leans into Chad, rests his forehead against his shoulder. “She was happy, but...but I don't remember if she was happy that night. She can’t have been, even if she... She left, she drove her fucking car because she was so desperate to get away.”
“She was drunk,” Chad says, like that solves anything.
“Bad drunk?”
Chad tries to remember. It feels like for so long they’ve both been trying to forget. “Maybe. I don't...no, I don't think so. Just...drunk. As drunk as the rest of us. We bickered. She was funny and mean, but I wasn’t terrified of her like sometimes. She was...maybe quieter? I don't remember thinking she was sad.”
Ryan sighs. “Maybe you just didn’t notice. Maybe I didn’t notice. I can’t believe I... Something was wrong, and she didn’t tell me and I didn’t notice and she drove away and died. And maybe it wasn’t deliberate - probably it wasn’t deliberate - but it still shouldn’t have happened. I still should have done something to stop it. What was I doing instead?”
He’s starting to sound less angry, less like he’s freaking the fuck out, but more like he’s bitter and tired and blaming himself. Chad can’t tell if that’s a good sign.
“I gave you a blowjob, didn’t I?”
Chad frowns. “Yeah, but we saw her after that.”
“We did?”
“Yep. At the bottom of the stairs. She slapped me.”
Ryan nods, slowly, remembering. “The last thing I heard her say was Oh, grow up, Danforth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Ryan wipes his eyes. “Let’s go back inside. We should sleep.”
“Are you okay?” Chad asks, as they walk back, holding hands.
“Hm, mostly I’m drunk.”
In spite of the moment, of all they’ve just said, Chad laughs. He’s relieved when Ryan laughs too.